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heliads · 4 years ago

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Hostage Situation

When Y/N L/N is kidnapped by Peter Pan to serve as a hostage and coerce her kingdom into leaving Neverland alone, she can only laugh. The mutual hatred between her and Pan, however, may lose its fire after a while.

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Your feet tread methodically around the grounds. You loop around the castle, walking past scraggly bushes and dying trees, eyes occasionally flickering to the large mountains in the distance. Your mother and father keep an impressive castle, but their focus rarely extends to the upkeep of the grounds themselves. Kings and Queens don’t exactly bother themselves with gardening- that will fall to the servants or, when you’ve managed to bore yourself enough, you.

Technically, you should be back in the castle. You are a princess, after all, and princesses rarely roam about the grounds in dirty, faded boots that have walked more miles than the most experienced of messengers. This being said, you’re not sure anyone will spare you enough thought to care. You may be a princess, but only in blood and title. Anything else must be fought for, and you’ve given up such pastimes long ago.

You suppose you’re still musing over this, which is why you don’t see the shadow swooping down over you until it’s too late. By the time you feel the uncanny stillness, or notice that an unusual darkness has swarmed around you, the shadow’s eerily human arms have wrapped around you, and your feet are already lifting from the ground. You struggle, but it is in vain, and soon you’re watching trees and rivers pass miles below you. You lock eyes with the shadow being, but its glowing white gaze betrays nothing but an emotionless urge to complete orders. Wherever you’re going, someone is waiting for you, someone who is controlling this shadow.

This realization troubles you more than you like. You don’t much like the idea of being taken somewhere, and you’re not about to just sit around and let it happen. You wait until the shadow swoops low over a rolling set of hills, and begin to fight back with renewed vigor. Although your blows tend to sink through the only somewhat corporeal shadow, you manage to stun it enough that it drops you. You fall through the air, catching yourself in the boughs of trees and scrambling down.

Your feet pound on the dirt as you sprint away from the shadow, but even this effort is useless. It appears out of nowhere in front of you, and as you skid to a stop it raises its hands and a wave of shadow rushes from it. The darkness pools around you like ink, rising to swallow you whole. You can only see one last thing before the darkness engulfs you completely: the white beacons of light that are the shadow’s eyes. Then there is nothing to see at all, and you can feel yourself falling to the ground.

When you wake up again, you find yourself lying down. You’ve been propped up against a tree, and when you open your eyes, you realize you’re in the middle of a forest. It’s a different forest than the one you were just in, and at a different time of day. The shadow must have continued the journey while you were still unconscious. You shiver slightly at the thought- wherever you are, it won’t be good. You move to sit up, but a wave of dizziness yawns open in your stomach and you lean back once more. You go to steady yourself, but your hands don’t move- they’ve been tied together with rough rope.

You had done your best to stay silent, but it’s not like you’re alone. Across the clearing, about a dozen or more boys dressed in robes of faded brown dance around a campfire. An almost maniacal glee spreads across each of their faces as they whirl and jump around, dancing to the haunting sound of a flute. The music stops after a second, but the boys continue dancing. You shiver slightly, then straighten up as a new boy approaches you. This one is dressed not in the russet tones of the others, but instead a dark, forest green. He must be their leader.

He crouches down in front of you, eyes gleaming with triumph. “Welcome, princess.” You raise an eyebrow at his tone. “An interesting welcome, sure. Nothing says fun like ropes and a kidnapping.” The boy just chuckles. “It wasn’t like you made it easy for us.” You shrug, eyes wandering away from the boy to skim the trees surrounding you. An idea is starting to click into place in your head. There’s a story you heard once, from a traveling merchant. There was an island deep in the ocean, full of boys who never seemed to grow old. They were led by one in particular, one boy who could make grown men shiver in their boots.

Your attention snaps back to the boy. Now you really look at him, at his knife-sharp grin and the cool confidence he wears like a glove. His smirk widens as if he can read your mind. “Do you know where you are, love?” You sigh, leaning your head back against the tree in exasperation. “Let me guess, I’m on Neverland.” The boy spread his hands as if in pride, and you resist the urge to groan.

If this is Neverland, then the boy in front of you must be Peter Pan. And you have heard enough about Peter Pan to know that any hour spent with this devil of a boy will be absolute hell.

Pan notices the realization sink into the girl’s eyes. She must have heard of him, he assumes, or she wouldn’t be looking at him like that. However, unlike the other visitors, there isn’t a shred of fear in her gaze. No, she just looks like she’s been dealt an unfortunate round of cards, rather annoyed instead of outright afraid. Pan’s not sure how he feels about that.

Y/N considers the rope tying her wrists. “Well, Peter, are you going to untie me or just let me stew here for a while?” Pan frowns. “It’s Pan. And no, you may be a princess but that doesn’t mean we’re all going to bow to you whenever you ask. There’s only one monarch in Neverland, and I’m afraid that title belongs to me. You’ll have to sit tight until they find out you’re missing.” Y/N scoffs, and then her eyes grow alight with suppressed laughter. “Wait- I think I know why I’m here. You’re trying to use me as a hostage.”

Y/N laughs even harder now, and Pan frowns. “I’m not sure why that’s funny. Your kingdom has been infringing upon my waters for a long time now. I intend to stop them.” Y/N shakes her head, doing her best to bite back a grin. “No, I get it. Great motive, but I’m afraid you chose the wrong hostage.” She fixes him with a cool look, finally keeping her laughter in check. “I’ve been kidnapped a couple of times before. Trust me, they won’t come for me. Not the guards, not my parents. I’m not useful to them.”

Pan frowns, curious despite himself. “What do you mean, you’re not useful to them?” Y/N shrugs. “The reason my parents became the King and Queen is because they were able to channel the power of my ancestors. Every monarch in my kingdom uses some magical artifact to gain increased strength, life, wisdom, you name it. The only problem is that it doesn’t work with me, so I’ve ceased to be a worry to them. I can’t use magic at all- not for them, not for you. You can hold me on this island for as long as you want, but it won’t work. They’re not coming after me.”

The words are light, spoken with the last traces of a laugh, but Pan still feels his stomach clench with some unnameable emotion. Maybe Y/N is meant to be a Lost Girl, maybe she’s more lost than any of them. This though alone fills him with loathing. If she’s a Lost Girl, then she’s supposed to stay on the island, even beyond her sentence as a hostage. Pan, however, is fairly sure that he doesn’t want to see this girl longer than a second. She had better be wrong about her parents, because Pan is certain that he’s going to end up killing her before the guards arrive on the shores of Neverland to rescue her.

You wake early, just before dawn begins to stain the tops of the trees with the light of morning. You stand up, stretching, and glance around the clearing. The Lost Boys appear to have gone to sleep, Pan included. They’ve left you alone for now, but you have no doubt that they’re still watching. Besides, it’s not like it would matter anyway- there’s nowhere for you to go. You’re on an island, after all, and there’s no way you could swim far enough to reach another nation’s shores.

Careful not to make a sound, you meander over to the campfire. Your hopes are proven correct when you spy a knife lying abandoned in the dirt. You pick it up, beginning to saw away at your ropes as you walk out of the clearing. You toss the cut ropes behind you, tucking the knife into your boot just in case. On an island like this, you never know when you might need a weapon.

You end up walking for about ten minutes before you get the feeling that you’re being watched. You roll your eyes. “I know you’re there, you can come out now.” One second you’re alone, and the next you’re being shoved up against a tree, an arm against your throat to stop you from moving. “You know, I’m fairly sure escaping prisoners aren’t supposed to call out to their jailers.” You scoff, pushing Pan’s arm away from you. “I appreciate the concern, Peter, but I’m not trying to escape. I’m just having a good time exploring the forest.”

You can see Pan’s eyes darken when you use his first name, but he ignores the jibe. “Who said I care about your wellbeing? I’m just making sure that you aren’t getting any ideas about an escape.” You give him a look, continuing on along the trails of the forest. “Anyone stuck on an island with you would think about escape.” He just chuckles, walking alongside you. “Tell that to my Lost Boys. They’ve chosen to leave the world behind to live on Neverland.” You smirk at him. “And what a sorry, sorry choice they’ve made.” He glares at you, but you just grin.

If you’re going to have to stay on this accursed island, you at least intend to enjoy yourself.

Y/N wakes up every morning to walk the island. Pan’s not sure why she bothers- there’s nowhere for her to go. Yet every dawn she wakes like clockwork, opening her eyes and beginning her wanderings. Pan has wondered if she’s awoken by nightmares, and that’s why she gets up so early, but if she’s plagued by night terrors Y/N is very good at hiding it. She doesn’t seem concerned at all, just keen to see the forest. Pan’s long since given up on the binding ropes- she just finds some way to remove them.

Pan’s watching his Lost Boys practice fighting when he senses another pair of eyes watching the sparring boys. He glances up to see Y/N, half hidden among the trees. Her gaze is glued to the boys, and he can almost picture her dissecting every move. There was an opening, when John stumbled, there was an opportunity, when Devin swung too low. Pan’s never heard of a princess that could fight, but if there ever was one, he’s sure that it would be her. Y/N lacks many of the key characteristics of a princess- charm being one of them. He wouldn’t be surprised if she could hold her own in a fight.

After the match ends with a triumphant Devin raising his fists to the sky, Pan steps forward. Instantly, the eyes of the Lost Boys all flash to him, including Y/N’s. He doesn’t speak that often, usually allowing Felix to lead classes. When he does have something to say, the Lost Boys tend to listen. Pan gestures for Y/N to step out of the grove of trees. “Well, princess, care to join the ring? Or are you all talk as we thought?”

She laughs, but Pan can see the glint of a challenge rising in her eyes. Y/N steps forward, and Pan points out a Lost Boy to act as her opponent. “Nick, I’d usually tell you to not rough her up too bad, but to be honest, I think we all want to see her get punched.” Y/N smirks. “If that’s true, why don’t you come down here and fight me yourself?” It’s a challenge, certainly, but Pan speaks before it can gain traction with the Lost Boys. “I’d never dirty my hands fighting someone like you.” Y/N, wisely, says no more, and shifts into a fighting stance opposite Nick.

To be honest, Pan does have to feel bad for the guy. No matter what he tries, Y/N throws him away like he’s nothing. She blocks his attacks, she punches and kicks and basically tears the guy to shreds. It would be humiliating were it not for the fact that Y/N is so obviously better than anyone on this island except for Pan and maybe Felix. Y/N flashes Pan a grin, extending a hand lightly coated in blood that does not belong to her. “Want to send another Lost Boy into the ring, or have you accepted the fact that I’m not going down easily?” Pan returns her smile. “I think I’m good.” And maybe, he just might be okay with all of this.

You’re relaxing by the campfire in the morning when you first hear the sounds of running footsteps. After that fight with Nick (although fight isn’t exactly the right word for it, maybe instead you could call it a bloodbath), the other Lost Boys accepted you immediately. Even Peter seems to approve of you now, and you catch him smiling softly at you across a clearing when he thinks you can’t see. You’re not sure why you notice, or why you keep thinking about it, but you’re fairly sure he shouldn’t linger behind your eyes as long as he does.

You look up at the swiftly approaching pair of Lost Boys, expecting to see them collapse in laughter, but the boys instead look worried, faces drawn with anxiety. You stand up, suddenly tense. What could make these boys look so nervous? They run over to Peter, practically tripping over themselves in an attempt to make it to their leader. Even from here, you can hear their words. “Guards- a ship full- the king and queen- they’re attacking us.”

You can see Peter’s face freeze. He speaks to them quickly. “They were flying the flags of Y/N’s kingdom? You’re sure of it?” They nod. “They’re pouring down the beaches now. They’ll be here any second.” Peter curses under his breath, calling to the rest of the boys to grab weapons and defend the camp. You race over to him. “I can fight. Give me a weapon.” Peter stares at you. “You’d fight against your parents?” You nod. “They’re not here for me, they’re here for the magic on the island. Trust me, they wouldn’t come all this way if they didn’t think they could get something out of it.”

Peter’s brow furrows as he realizes what you’re saying. “You think that’s why they’re here?” You nod. “There’s no other reason. I’ve been kidnapped before, they never came. They’re not here for me.” You repeat, and Peter’s jaw clenches. “Get a sword, you can fight with the others.” He starts to move away, then steps back to you. “And Y/N? Stay safe.” You nod, returning the assurance of safety. Then the two of you run your separate ways, each desperate to save the island that’s somehow become your home in a matter of weeks.

You pull on a hooded cloak so the guards can’t recognize you. You can’t take the chance that they’d try to bring you back to the ship, not when you’re supposed to be fighting for Neverland. Your sword moves in a never-stopping arc, cutting through armor and slicing the soldiers like the warriors of old. At last, you pause for a second, noting that the situation on the beach has cleared. Yet you don’t see your parents, even though the Lost Boys said they were here. A chill rises in your throat as you realize what must be happening, and you turn and race back to the camp. Back to Peter.

Sure enough, your parents have found him. They’re using all of their magic against him, doing their best to take him down. Peter is strong, far stronger than either of them. Yet the two of them and additional guards against one Lost Boy isn’t a fair fight, even if it’s against Peter. Your heart is pounding in your throat. You’re going to have to make a decision, one you promised yourself you’d never have to make.

You fling your arms up, and a wall of magic slams into your parents. They crumple to the ground along with the guards and lie there, unmoving. You can tell that they’re still breathing, albeit slowly. Peter’s gaze flashes from the suddenly unconscious guards to you, who stands there still, breathing heavily. Your arms are still raised from the burst of magic, and you lower them slowly. His gaze seems to burn right through you, and you begin to speak quickly, desperate to say something, anything, to stop the cutting look in his eyes.

“They never saw me, their backs were turned. We can get them onto the ships and away. They’ll think it was you, that you were too powerful for them. They won’t return. They won’t know about me.” Peter steps forward, but your feet feel leaden in your boots. You’re not sure you could move if you tried. His voice is quiet. “You do have magic.” You nod hesitantly. “I didn’t want them to know. I knew if they found out they would use me as a weapon, and I didn’t want to live as their blade.”

Understanding begins to dawn in Peter’s eyes. “You didn’t need the artifacts because you already had power of your own. You were smart to hide it from them.” His brow furrows again, confusion sweeping over him. “Why would you show me? Why would you trust me?” You look away. “You let me into your island, into the Lost Boys, without knowing about my powers for a second. I served no use to you, not even as a hostage. You didn’t want me here because of how I could help you, you wanted me here because of who I was. That’s why.”

Peter’s quiet for a second, and you begin to think that you’ve said too much. “They’ll probably find out after a while. I can board another ship, make my way back to the Enchanted Forest. They won’t bother you if I leave.” Peter says nothing, and you almost fear that he won’t say anything at all. That he’ll let you leave without another word, too wounded over this lie. Then his hand is on your cheek, guiding your eyes back to him, and he kisses you.

He kisses you for a second, then breaks away. His face is inches from yours, his breath hot on your cheeks. “I’m not letting them take you. Not now, not ever. I don’t want you to leave, Y/N. You’ve been a Lost Girl since the day you arrived and I can’t let you go because you want to protect us.” A small smile quirks at the corners of your lips. “What happened to there only being one monarch on the island?” Peter laughs quietly. “I’ll make an exception for you.”

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fanficimagery · 4 years ago

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A Baby Spark

Imagine it being almost two years since you've seen your family. You've been through some changes since you've been gone and you're surprised at how well your family just seems to roll with the punches. Then again your little sister is exactly how you remember her either.

Words: 8.7K Author's Note: I'm a weakass bitch who loves a good crossover. Hopefully I did these two fandoms some justice. I'm warning you right now there's a little violence in here.

Pacing in front of the couch out back in the studio, Julie opens her mouth to say something but snaps it shut and shakes her head as she mumbles to herself. For about ten minutes now she's been like this and Luke, Reggie, and Alex can only stare at her with dread slowly creeping in.

"Is she having a breakdown or something?" Reggie asks quietly, eyes following her back and forth. "I've never seen her like this."

"I don't know, but I'm starting to feel queasy," Alex says.

Luke rolls his eyes. "It's Julie. It's nothing bad," he says. "We all know she works herself up over nothing."

"Okay!" All three boys startle, jumping in their seats and practically clinging to one another. When they realize what they've done, they quickly let go and attempt to act cool. "So my sister is coming down for a visit and dad thinks we should ease her into the secret of you guys being ghosts."

"Your sister?" Alex wonders, intrigued. "She finally got in touch?"

"Yeah." Julie slowly smiles. "She, uh, she sounded weird on the phone. Really emotional. But she said she's ready to be home for a bit."

"Well you said you haven't seen each other face to face in almost two years," Reggie says. "It's understandable that she'd be emotional."

"True." Julie shrugs. "Anyway, you guys need to remember no vanishing into thin air or appearing from thin air while in the same room as her. We can't have her asking questions until we're ready to tell her."

"I think we can handle that." Luke nods, looking at the boys. "At least I'm pretty sure we can."

Alex nudges him, scoffing. "Of course we can."

"Okay. Good. Because she's going to be here any minute now."

"WHAT?!"

"I thought we had more time!"

"Aw man," Reggie whines. "What do I wear?"

- - - - - - - - - -

You pull up to your childhood home about twenty minutes after the sun has set, excited to see your family and the boys who had reintroduced your baby sister to music after your mom had passed. You'd been keeping up with her via social media and was shocked to see her performing with holograms. Something about the holograms didn't quite add up, but you didn't question it seeing as your sister was thriving with her newfound friendships.

You've barely shut the door to your rented vehicle when the front door swings open, and your baby brother and baby sister are barreling down the porch. You laugh at their enthusiasm, opening your arms wide and bracing yourself for the impact. The moment they hit you, you bring your arms down around them. "Oh my god. You guys have grown so much!"

"Well that's what happens when you don't visit. We grow up."

"Carlos!" Julie quickly reprimands him. She then glances up at you, chuckling nervously. "He didn't mean that."

"Of course he did," you muse. "He's a Molina. And it's not like he's wrong."

But your sister isn't having it. "You had valid excuses- school and then you were really sick that one time. It's okay."

Sick, you mentally scoff, if only it were that simple.

"Right. Well I'm home now and I plan to visit whenever I can in the future," you say. Carlos and Julie beam at you. "So come on. I'm starving and I really want to see dad and meet these phantoms."

Carlos releases you and immediately turns to run back inside, and Julie latches onto your arm as she walks side-by-side with you. The closer you get to the porch, the more a faint scent on the air tickles your nose. Then once on the porch, it's a little bit stronger and it has you tensing.

Julie notices as she continues to walk, only to be pulled back from where she's still connected to you. "What's wrong?"

Staring off the side where you know the gate is for the backyard, your nostrils slightly flare, but at the sound of Julie's voice you close your eyes and shake your head to clear it. "Nothing. I'm fine," you mumble. "I just- I thought I smelled burning wire or something." Looking forward and then towards your sister, you chuckle. "My roommate started a fire a couple weeks back. It's made me paranoid ever since."

The lie comes a little too easily and you feel guilty. But then Julie snorts, you breathe a little easier, and then the two of you make the rest of the way inside the house. The smell of home makes your shoulders sag and feel like a weight's been lifted off of you. You glance around the living room, smiling softly at various touches you knew your mother added and the fact that your dad's kept them as reminders of the love of his life. There are three familiar, yet unfamiliar at the same time, faces sitting together on the couch. They stare at you, hesitant expressions on their faces until you smile and wave at them. The boy in a leather jacket is the first to smile back, waving, followed by the blonde and the shaggy haired brunette.

"That's Reggie, Alex, and Luke," Julie introduces them to you. "Guys, this is my older sister Y/N."

"Hey guys, it's nice to finally meet you face to face."

"Likewise," Alex says. "Julie's told us so much about you."

"Aw." You let go of Julie's arm just to wrap it around her head, she immediately struggling to get out of the headlock you put her in. You laugh, tugging on her curls. "You talk about me? Am I the cool older sister? You love me that much?" You tease her.

"Get. Off." Julie tries to shove you off, but the two of you just end up falling to the floor.

"Alright. Girl fight!" Reggie cheers. "I got money on the older Molina."

"I don't know," Alex muses. "Jules can be pretty feisty."

"Pft. No way." Carlos scoffs. "Y/N has this in the bag."

"How are you so freakishly strong?" Julie complains. "Did you start working out or something?"

"Or something," you laugh.

There's a sigh that has you looking up instantly. "You would think that my college-aged daughter would be adult enough to not wrestle her younger siblings on the floor."

"Dad!" Immediately you abandon your sister, flicking her forehead once for good measure, before launching yourself at your dad. "You're lookin' healthy, old man. The younger crotch goblins keeping you in line?"

"Hey!"

The boys laugh at Julie and Carlos' simultaneous shouts, and you wink at them before squeezing your dad a little bit longer. "How was the drive, mija?"

"It was fine," you say. "Long. And now I'm just ready to chow down."

"You have perfect timing then. The stew is ready, but now we're just waiting on Reggie's rolls to come out of the oven."

You dramatically gasp as you look towards the boy in question. "Not only is he cute, but he bakes too? Julie, you better husband that one up."

Two out of the three boys laugh as the other one frowns, and Julie rolls her eyes. "Shut up." Then looking out towards the group, she says, "Someone come help me set the table."

Your dad and Carlos head into the kitchen behind Julie, and you walk over towards the couch to sit on the armrest nearest Luke. Putting a hand on his shoulder, you squeeze. "Don't frown, biceps. I totally ship you and my sister. The two of you just ooze chemistry and I find it utterly adorable."

Alex groans. "Please don't say ooze again."

"Ooze," you deadpan. You look Alex in the eye. "Ooze. Ooze."

His nose wrinkles. "So you're the evil Molina. I know who Carlos takes after now."

All four of you chuckle and fall into a comfortable silence. However, as you sit there, you realize something odd. Everyone, human or not, has a scent. But these three boys next to you? There's no hint of B.O or cologne. Nothing. You frown as you stare at each one, at how human they appear to be, but before you can notice anything else your dad's calling out.

"Dinner's ready!"

You quickly paste on a smile as Luke and Reggie rush towards the kitchen. Alex sighs. "I would say sorry on their behalf, but then I'd be saying sorry the entire duration you're here because it's just how they are."

"I get it," you chuckle softly. "I have a friend like that. Stiles. He's- he's a lot to handle sometimes."

Dinner is quite the affair and you can't help but be in awe with how these three boys have brought life back into your home. When your mom passed, it was like the life was sucked out of everyone. There were no smiles, there was no laughing, and everyone seemed to lose interest in something. You almost didn't go back to school, instead choosing to look after Julie and Carlos, but from one day to the next it was like your dad snapped out of his grief and started looking after the kids again. So you went back to school, kept up with your schoolwork, got.. sick, and finally had enough strength to visit your family. You wanted it to be a happy family reunion, so you'll be damned if three charming boys took advantage of your family.

The following day is spent with just your family and a brief visit made by Flynn, but throughout the entire day you can't help but notice something is off. Every now and then it feels like the temperature drops or you have an overwhelming feeling of being watched or you catch Julie mumbling towards nothing but thin air. Your little sister acts highly suspicious, but she plays it off every time you call attention to it.

On your third day home, however, your family's been out grocery shopping when you decide to visit your mom's studio. It's the first time you've gone out back since you've been home, so of course the scent that first put you on edge hits you full force. Annoyance immediately sets in and you follow the musky scent which leads you to the studio. Hearing voices inside makes you freeze and you tilt your head to get a better listen.

The three voices are Luke, Reggie, and Alex, and while that should be weird since no one is home.. it's not the oddest thing. The oddest thing is that while you can hear them talking and the hum of their amps, that's all you hear. No heartbeats.

Pulling open the door, all three boys look like deer caught in headlights. "Hey, boys." You quirk an eyebrow at them, walking in and taking a little pleasure in watching them squirm. "Whatcha up to out here?"

"Oh, um," Alex stammers, "R-Ray lets us practice out here whenever we want."

"Mhm." You glance at Reggie, his demeanor entirely too soft to threaten. Instead you glance at Luke and realize he'll be the one revving for a fight if you go after the other two. So you set your sights on him. "I'm sure my mom would have adored you boys." Walking around Luke, you step close and trail a finger along the strap of his guitar. "Well at least she would have adored whatever it is you boys are." The boys all seem to cease breathing and quick as lightning you grab a fistful of Luke's shirt and bring his face close to yours. "So tell me, Luke, what are you?"

His eyes blow wide. "W-What? I'm a d-dude. Human!"

"Wrong answer." Eyes flash gold and you can feel the teeth in your mouth shifting. Luke seems to lose what little color he had left in his cheeks. "You have no scent. You have no heartbeat! So tell me what you are."

Luke gapes at you until all of a sudden he completely vanishes out of your grip. You growl, eyes darting all over the place.

"What am I? What the hell are you?!"

You whirl around, snarling, and startling all three boys. All three are gaping, staring wide-eyed as they take in the full picture of what you are. Of what you had to become. "Why are you messing with my family?"

You're so caught up with the boys that you're not listening to your senses and completely miss the fact that your family has gotten home. You're caught off guard as Julie walks through the studio door and you take a step back as Julie's erratic heart nearly makes you whine.

"I- what?" She mutters. You exhale shakily and you can feel your face shifting back to normal. "Y/N?"

"I can explain," you tell her softly. She stares at you, fear wafting off of her and making your nose itch. "But first your boys need to come clean. They're not exactly what they look like." All four- FOUR!- suddenly fidget nervously and your eyes narrow. "But you already knew that, didn't you?"

She numbly nods her head. "Yes. Dad and Carlos too. B-But it's nothing as crazy as whatever is going on with you." She gulps. "Which, by the way, what- what even are you?"

You sigh, backing up until you're plopping down onto an armchair. You gesture to the couch across from you and watch as the three boys keep themselves between you and Julie until they're all on the couch. "Remember when I was sick? And the doctor said I had a fifty-fifty chance of surviving?"

She frowns. "Yeah. But what-"

"He was lying to you. I didn't have a fifty-fifty chance. I was going to die. No ifs, ands, or buts about it."

"How would you know that?"

"Because my roommate could smell death on me," you say. Julie, Luke, Reggie, and Alex all blink at you. "The thing you need to know, Jules, is that pretty much every supernatural creature we grew up reading about is real."

Alex gulps. "Witches?" You nod.

"Vampires?" Luke starts to grin. You nod again.

"Werewolves?" Reggie wonders, awe already filling his features.

You glance at him and flash your eyes. "What do you think I am?" You muse. His eyes widen, but then a smile breaks out and you breathe a little easier. At least he won't be running from you. "Anyway, she literally smelled me rotting from the inside out. So when she really grew concerned, she went to one of her alphas and told him what was going on with me."

"Wait. One of her alphas?"

"Yeah." You shrug. "It's a whole pack, the Hale-McCall pack. There's two alphas within the ranks and instead of protecting one little town they decided to spread out. Scott protects Beacon Hills since that's where he lives and Derek came down south to expand our territory. We're kind of all spread out in California with two ally packs further up north."

"Okay so this is all interesting, but how does that explain how or why you changed?" Julie asks.

"Oh. Right." You sigh. "Well Cora- my roommate- didn't want me to die. She came to me and asked me that if there was a cure of sorts, a way that only granted me a fifty-fifty chance of survival rather than a hundred percent death, if I would take it. I asked for more of an explanation and she showed me what she was while explaining more about the supernatural world. So I said I wanted the cure. And then I met her brother Derek."

"Who and what is Derek?" Your sister asks.

"A werewolf. An alpha werewolf to be exact," you tell your audience. "Only the bite of an alpha werewolf can turn someone, but at that it's only a fifty-fifty chance. So I took it since it was more of a chance than I originally had and I became a beta werewolf."

"Is this why you stayed away?"

"I had to. Turning isn't as simple as it sounds. I had to learn control and I had to learn to protect myself. I might be stronger and faster and not entirely human, but there are people out there who train to kill people like me. It wasn't safe for any of us if I were to come so soon after becoming a werewolf."

Julie nervously shifts. "And it's safe now?"

"Yeah. We have some friends in the Hunter community, and Scott and Derek have been working hard to mend bridges between everyone. Since Derek approves of my control, he said it was okay for me to come."

Luke huffs. "You call this control? You attacked me."

"Can you blame me?" You raise an eyebrow at him. "I came home to find three individuals with no scent or no heartbeat practically living with my family, and the scent of another werewolf around my childhood home where my very human family still lives. What was I supposed to do?"

"Wait, what?" Julie's eyes blow wide. "There's been a werewolf around us?"

"Yeah. And speaking of," you say, "since these three appear to not be the culprits, has there been anyone hanging around? Staring longingly or just giving off the creepiest of vibes? The scent was maybe a few days old, but it's definitely werewolf."

Your sister shivers and crosses her arms over her chest as if to hug herself. "Not that I noticed."

You glance at the boys and all three shake their heads. "Keep an eye out then. That's kind of suspicious." Everyone nods. You inhale and then exhale deeply, looking at each individual. But as no one says anything, you lightly clear your throat. "So is anyone going to tell me what you three are or..?"

"Oh!" Julie leans forward, smiling softly. "Ghosts."

"Ghosts?"

"Ghosts!" Reggie disappears from his spot on the couch and reappears at your side. You faintly startle, but he still sees it and chuckles. "We kind of kicked the bucket about twenty six years ago now."

Luke sighs. "Street dogs, man. We can never look at them the same way ever again."

You snort and then slap a hand over your mouth as you stare at the boys with wide eyes. "I am so sorry. I didn't mean to laugh."

"Don't even worry about it," Alex says. "We've had some time to get over it and well now we have this cool gig with Julie so it's fine."

"Well either way I'm sorry you guys died, but I'm stoked you came into my family's life when you did."

The three boys beam, but Julie leans forward. "You know you have to tell dad, right? This is something dad needs to know."

"I know." You frown. "I just- how do I tell dad I'm not exactly human anymore?"

"Together." Julie smiles sadly at you. "We'll tell him together."

After calling an emergency family meeting the previous night, telling your dad and baby brother that werewolves existed was possibly the hardest thing you had to do. Out of the two of them, Carlos was most excited about all the new information you were offering up. But your dad, however, had a brief breakdown when you explained that you were literally going to die unless you had taken the bite from a werewolf. It had taken you almost ten minutes to calm him down, but you only made it a little bit worse when you told him there were rules now that the family knew the supernatural world existed.

Your dad and Carlos had tons of questions, and by the time dinner rolled around Ray just called in several pizzas so they could continue to grill you. Eventually things had settled and everyone went their separate ways to shower and get some sleep.

Then the day after that, you spend the day watching Julie and the boys rehearse because they got a last minute gig this coming Friday night. Even when they're goofing off they play amazingly and you praise them every moment you can. You're so caught up with your family and the boys that everything else is pushed to the back of your mind. And that's where it stays until after Julie and the Phantoms' performance three days later.

It's approaching midnight when you get home, you having rode with your family to and back from the club. It was the most fun you had in awhile, standing directly in front of the stage and screaming the lyrics back at your sister and Luke as they performed. And when you get home you and Julie are still singing along to one of her songs as you walk towards the front door, only to stumble to a halt when the scent of werewolf hits you full force.

"Mija, what's going on?"

"Shh!" You push Julie towards your dad and walk closer to the front door, eyes narrowing at the fact that it's cracked open when it should be locked. You put your nose close to the gap of the opened door and inhale deeply, eyes glowing gold in anger. There's a loud thump from inside and you whirl around to face your dad. He tenses as he eyes the fangs peeking from between your lips. "Get back in the car," you growl. "Do not get out until I come get you."

"Mija-"

"Do you understand?" You growl again, cutting him off. Your dad gulps and quickly nods, grabbing ahold of Carlos and Julie's hands to rush them away.

When you hear the car doors slam shut, the rummaging from inside your house stops. So before whoever is inside can flee, you brace yourself and walk inside. Slamming the door behind you, you open up your senses to tell you who or what is inside with you.

There's a warning growl from up above you and you snarl in response, not taking kindly to being warned off in your own home. Suddenly there are footsteps rushing towards the staircase and you lunge for them, bounding up the steps a few at a time. You meet the werewolf on the stairs, roaring at the sight of electric blue eyes glaring at you. He tries to leap over you, but you catch him by the ankle and tug him down with all your strength.

He's taller than you and more solid than you originally thought, so you mentally curse yourself when you can hear the staircase creak and crack as you fall down the stairs with him. Taking a boot to the gut, you swing out to claw him down his thigh. You draw first blood, but then the werewolf rounds on you with his teeth and claws bared. He lunges, catching you around the waist and slams your back down on the stairs. You grunt in pain, punching and clawing, but only earn a set of claws being dragged down the side of your face in return.

You hear him grunt, followed by a large crack, and your eyes fly open wide when you feel a thin pole from the wooden bannister be shoved into your gut. You roar out, completely shocked at this wolf's aggressiveness, and your saving grace comes in the form of three ghosts.

Alex, Luke, and Reggie pop in, startling the werewolf hovering above you. Their exclamations of pure joy quickly turn to ones of surprise and fear, and you use this brief reprieve to summon all your rage and push back. Once your feet are back beneath you, you shove the wolf back and against a wall. One hand goes around his throat and you use the other to shove your claws into his gut.

"What.. do you want.. with my family?" You ask, shoving your claws in deeper with each pause. The werewolf growls and easily overpowers you, shoving you back and fleeing through the back door.

When you get back to your feet, you attempt to run after him but Reggie rushes in front of you. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Where do you think you're going?!"

"Reg, get out of my way," you seethe.

"Nope. No way. In case you haven't noticed, you've been impaled!" His hands flail in the direction of your abdomen. "Shouldn't you like go to the hospital or something?"

"I'll heal." You grab the wooden pole protruding from your body, grasping it tightly and yanking it free.

Reggie gags and you let it drop, only to then be approached by Luke." Y/N, where's Jules? And Carlos and your dad?"

At the mention of your family, the haze of rage starts to fade. You breathe deeply, letting the aches and pain take over as your features shift back to normal. "They're in the car," you say. "Can you go get them? I need to check upstairs to see what that asshole was doing."

"For sure."

As Luke poofs away, you turn back towards the stairs and make your way up them. You follow the scent of werewolf and when you find where it leads your rage comes back ten-fold. Shoving your way in Julie's room, you snarl when you find the strange scent by her dresser, in her closet, and on her bed. You catch whiffs of his scent on random items and you tense when there's a shout of your name from downstairs.

Realizing it's only your dad, you give yourself a moment to make sure you have yourself under control before making your way downstairs. "I'm sorry about the staircase," you say. "I'll call someone in the morning to come estimate the damages and fix it." Everyone is oddly quiet and when you meet their gazes, you see half are on your face and the other are on your stomach. "Relax. It'll heal."

"Will it?" Ray asks. He walks forward, gently cupping your face and angling it so he can get a better look.

"Yeah. It's already stopped bleeding. Now all they gotta do is close up."

"Okay." Your dad gulps. "Did you- did you figure out what was going on?"

"Some rogue werewolf," you tell him. "Normally I wouldn't worry because it's normal for a werewolf to scope out another werewolf in their territory, but this one was only in Julie's room. He didn't go near mine. Something's up."

Luke wraps an arm around Julie's shoulder as she gasps and Ray worriedly glances at his daughter. Carlos steps up on Julie's other side, grabbing her hand and looking every bit determined to keep her safe.

"What can we do?" Luke asks.

"Well for starters," you sigh, "everyone can take a chill pill. Go change, go shower, and go to sleep. I'll clean up and I'll call in reinforcements. I hope you guys are ready to meet my alpha."

"Are you sure, mija?" Your dad asks.

"Yeah. I'm too amped up to do anything other than keep watch and my alpha is necessary since this rogue werewolf easily overpowered me. I'm still new to this whole supernatural business, so it's better if someone more experienced comes in."

Ray and Carlos hesitantly make their way towards the stairs, but as Julie moves she makes a lunge for you. Her arms wrap around you and yours her, and you rub the side of your jaw along her temple. "You're going to be okay," you mumble. "Trust me."

"I do."

Luke and Reggie readily follow your family upstairs, but Alex lingers. You look at him, smiling softly. "Are you sure you're okay?" He asks. "You literally had a pole sticking out of your stomach."

"I'm fine, Al." You lift up your shirt, showing him the barely there hole. "See? It's closing. The healing process is just a little slow for me because I'm a bitten werewolf, not born."

"Oh. Okay. Cool." His hands go into his pockets as he glances around the room nervously. "So do you want some company?"

"Sure." You chuckle softly. "But first, I have a call to make."

Alex follows you into the kitchen where you lean tiredly against the island counter, putting your phone down on the counter top as you look for a specific contact and then put your phone on speaker as to not be rude to your guest. It rings a couple of times before the line clicks open.

"Y/N? What's wrong?" Derek's gruff voice makes you smile and Alex's eyes widen.

"Why would you think something is wrong, Der?"

"Because you told us not to contact you until your two weeks with your family were up. You still have another week with them and you're calling me. In the middle of the night. So again I'll ask, what's wrong?"

You sigh and this time it's Alex's turn to grin at you. "So I might have a problem."

Derek groans. "What did you do this time?"

You open your mouth to play off the seriousness of the situation, but after the night you had you're just not feeling. So you snap your mouth shut and sigh once more. "When I first got here, I smelled a werewolf around the house," you say. "I didn't think anything of it because it was faint, but tonight I found the werewolf in my little sister's room. We fought and he fled. I have an uncomfortable feeling about this, Der."

A moment passes in silence before Derek says, "We're on the way."

"Okay, but before you come to the rescue there's something you need to know." He doesn't say anything, but the line is still connected so you know he's waiting. "So you know how we always said something was odd about my sister's holograms?"

"Yeah?"

"Well funnily enough, they're ghosts! But don't worry," you're quick to cut off an inevitable rant, "there's nothing fishy or any ulterior motives. These guys are good, pure, and goofy. Please don't start anything."

There's a heavy exhale and then, "We'll see."

"Bring food!" You're quick to toss in, grinning that you got that in before the call ended. Alex stares at you and you roll your eyes playfully at him. "Relax. It's going to be fine."

Derek and the others could have been there within a few hours, but they didn't want to be rude and show up while your family was sleeping. You texted back and forth with Cora after Derek spilled the ghost secret, and you laughed when she mentioned she was excited to meet them because your little sister's music was quite catchy.

When you hear your family starting to stir awake, you send off a quick text to Derek to let him know that it was okay for them to finally come over. And to bring food because there's not enough to feed three werewolves, three ghosts, and three humans in the house.

Carlos is the only one who looks well rested, Ray and Julie looking like they tossed and turned all night. Luke, Reggie, and Alex poof into the room and you tiredly nod at them.

"Did you get any sleep?" Your dad asks.

"Nah. I've been keeping watch and keeping in contact with the pack," you say. "Derek and Cora are on the way, and Scott said to let him know if we needed him. The rest of the pack would come if needed."

"Mhm. Is there anything we need to know about this Derek and Cora?"

You glance around at your family and ghosts, and sigh when they're waiting for some sort of answer. "Just that they had a really traumatic event happen when they were younger, so if they're not exactly warm in the beginning don't take it personal."

Reggie leans forward in his seat. "Mhm. How traumatic are we talking?"

"Like their entire family was trapped in their home and burned alive traumatic." Everyone's eyes widen and you wince. "Yeah. A bunch of other stuff happened, but it's confusing and not everything is black and white as you may think. I just rather not delve too deep into their personal business moments before you meet them."

After a few lingering moments, Carlos is the first to mention he's hungry. Your dad says he'll get started on breakfast, but you stop them before they can even make it to the kitchen. Then before you can explain why making food isn't necessary, the doorbell rings and everyone freezes.

"I'll, um, I'll just get that."

Hurrying to the door, you open it up and smile in relief at the sight of your two favorite Hales.

"We come bearing McDonald's," Cora says. "We also might have pissed off a long line of cars because we bought out all their sausage biscuits and hash browns."

You laugh. "And I bet you cackled as you drove off."

"She did," Derek deadpans.

You shake your head and then step out of the way, gesturing the two Hales inside. You shut the door behind them and when you turn around to follow them you find that you don't have to go far. Everyone is just standing around, staring at the two newcomers and you shake your head. "What are you all doing out here? Get into the kitchen! I want to eat."

Carlos steps forward, staring up at Derek and Cora with a curious expression. "So werewolves, huh? And you're the one who bit my sister?" Derek tenses, but nods nonetheless. "Well thanks for saving her, but now I'll never beat her in a wrestling match. Can someone biscuit me so I can eat my feelings?"

You snort just as Cora cracks a grin and she walks forward while gesturing for Carlos to follow her into the kitchen. Derek stays put and you step up to his side, nodding up at him before looking out. "So," you start, looking at everyone else, "I'd like you guys to meet alpha Derek Hale. Der, this is my dad, my sister Julie, Carlos followed after Cora, and then we have Alex, Reggie, and Luke."

Everyone gave some form of acknowledgement as they were introduced and Derek sticks his hand out for your dad. "It's nice to finally meet you, sir. I'm just sorry it's under these circumstances."

Ray grasps onto his hand and shakes it. "Ditto."

"Okay," you drawl. "Now that the awkward introductions are over with, can we eat?"

Everyone walks into the kitchen then, you nudging your sister and chuckling at her wariness. Then once in the kitchen, you introduce everyone to Cora as well. The food is passed out and it feels like you're smiling encouragingly at everyone because they're intimidated by Derek's mere presence.

When everyone appears to be done with their food, it's Derek who clears his throat. "So do you wanna know why there's a werewolf interested in Julie now or later?"

The table falls silent and it's Julie who finally addresses him. "Wait. You already know? Without snooping around?"

Derek looks at her and smiles kindly which sets your heart a flutter. You're not stupid, you're well aware just how attractive your alpha is, but you never let yourself cross that line. Cora, however, has no problems teasing you about it, nudging you and smirking. You glare at her and return your attention to Derek. "I do. I'm not surprised Y/N didn't pick up on it, but I am surprised my sister hasn't mentioned anything."

Cora stops her teasing them, brows furrowed as she looks at her brother. "What?"

Derek pushes back from the table and offers his hand for Julie. "I'm sorry this might be uncomfortable for you, but will you join us over here?" she quickly glances at you and your dad, and your dad nods at her. She gets up and joins Derek at his side, and he gently grabs her arm to hold between you and Cora. "Focus on Julie's scent. Who does she remind you of?"

Cora's more in tune with her senses, so it doesn't take her long to pick up on what her brother is suggesting. It takes you a minute and when her scent has fully engulfed you, your eyes fly open. "How did I miss that?"

"M-Miss what?" Your sister stammers, pulling her arm back.

Cora glances between Julie and her brother, and you shake your head. "It's impossible. Stiles is a.." you trail off and Derek quirks an eyebrow at you, grinning.

"Excuse me," Luke pipes up, "but who and what the hell is a Stiles?"

Derek and Cora snort, and your gaze darts between Luke, Reggie, Alex, and your sister.

"Mija, what's going on?" Ray asks.

You gulp as realization slowly settles in. Looking at Julie, you ask, "They used to be invisible, right?"

"Yeah."

"But then they were cursed by another ghost, almost jolted out of existence, and you pulled them to you at the Orpheum. You wanted them and they appeared, and then by some weird happenstance you didn't want them to go and the curse was lifted. You were finally able to touch and everyone could see them."

Julie frowns at you. "You knew this already. What does that have to do with-"

"You're a Spark."

"What?"

Ray glances between both his daughters. "What's a Spark and how bad is this?"

You're left blinking at your sister in awe, so Derek takes over once more. "A Spark is someone with magical abilities, sir. When trained properly, they're a force to be reckoned with. They're highly sought after because they're not as neutral as a pack Emissary and can offer a hell of a lot more protection than an Emissary."

"Mhm. And what's an Emissary?"

"It's someone who offers advice and keeps peace during pack meetings," you say. "They're limited in their knowledge and magical abilities, but a Spark.. a Spark is so much more."

"So that's why this werewolf was sniffing around the house?" Ray asks. "Because he could smell the magic coming off Julie?"

"Yes." Derek tells him honestly. You can hear Julie's heartbeat pick up speed and you're quick to stand and wrap her in a hug. "If he's an Omega, which I believe he is since no one else came back when he faced off against Y/N, I think he wants to grow his own pack."

"And having a Spark within his pack would look good when recruiting others," Cora says.

Ray sighs. "What do we do?"

"Honestly? Julie needs to harness her power and learn how to use it."

"What? No!"

"Dad." You look towards him, frowning. "Derek's right. Julie is full of untapped potential and you do not want the wrong person training her. We can help."

Your dad sighs some more, rubbing his hand down his face. Finally he looks at Julie. "What do you want to do, mija? This is your life we're talking about here."

Everyone seems to hold their breath as Julie glances at every person she's come to love. But before she can say anything, Cora speaks up. "Before any decisions are made, I think we need to make sure Julie is a Spark." She then looks at your little sister. "Would you be willing to complete a test? There's no pain, no questions, just simple concentration."

You sister shrugs. "I guess so."

Julie is still apprehensive as Cora exits the room, so you rub her arm up and down. "It's going to be okay." You smile reassuringly at her. "If you truly are what we think you are, I think you might enjoy this. I know Carlos will."

Your baby brother perks up and you grin at him. You're quick to clear away the trash and are done just as Cora re-enters the room. She drops a duffel bag atop the table and Derek opens it up, pulling on a pair of gloves before he removes a vial full of black powder.

"What's that?" Luke asks.

"Mountain ash." Derek explains. "Create a closed barrier with this and no supernatural creature can cross it."

"And the rest?" Reggie wonders, peeking into the bag. Several vials clink together and he's quick to back off.

"Wolfsbane," you tell him. "It's lethal to us, but if we're shot or nicked with a weapon that holds a certain strain of this stuff, we figure out which strain it is and burn the ash that we have on hand to press into our wounds. For some reason it counteracts the effects."

"But in order to see if Julie truly is a Spark," Derek says, pulling everyone's attention back to the main topic, "we need her to create a barrier of mountain ash around Cora."

Julie quickly glances at you and you give her a nod. She walks towards Derek and Cora, and Derek opens up the vial to pour a small mound of black ash in the center of her palm. Julie glances up at him in surprise and then at the space around Cora's feet. "That's all you're giving me?"

"That's all you get."

Julie glances at you again and the panic is clear in her eyes. "Relax," you say. She gulps. "Relax," you say again, softer. "Inhale and exhale, Jules." She does as you say and after a couple of deep breaths, you say, "Now close your eyes. Form a loose fist and believe that you have all the ash you need there in the center of your hand as it tips out while walking a circle around Cora."

Julie's eyes fly open as she scoffs. "Seriously?"

"Seriously." You grin. "Magic is all about belief. Now close your eyes and concentrate. You have to want to close this circle. Do it."

Again everyone seems to hold their breath as Julie closes her eyes and shakes herself out. She takes a few deep breaths, letting them out slowly. You can practically see the moment her mind clears, her expression going slack right before she tips her fist and the ash starts to fall. She walks in an unsteady circle, her brow furrowing halfway around. She unknowingly walks the entire circle, her eyes flying open as she groans. "This is dumb."

"Is it?" Cora wonders. She raises her hand and goes to touch Julie, but her hand hits an invisible wall that shimmers a faint blue before fading.

Julie glances down, her eyes widening before she looks at you. "It worked?"

"It worked," you assure her. Everyone seems to scramble up from their seats then, gathering around Julie and Cora. You snort as Carlos and Reggie easily put their hands inside the circle, but Cora has no such luck of reaching out of it. You raise your eyebrow at that. "Well at least we know mountain ash doesn't work on ghosts."

"Um, how do we get her out now?" Julie nervously wonders.

"You or any other human can just drag the toe of your shoe through it. It'll break the circle."

"Cool!" Carlos readily drags his socked toe through the ash and Cora laughs as she steps out of the circle.

"So what happens now?" Alex asks, glancing between his newfound family a bit nervously.

"Now we find her a mentor," Derek says. "And a pack because without one-" he says, cutting off your dad, "it'll just be a matter of time before another werewolf comes looking. Or something worse."

"We, uh, we know a Spark," you say, glancing at Derek who gives you a nod to continue. "Stiles. He's obnoxiously smart and powerful, and unfortunately he refuses to leave alpha McCall's side long term. But since we're basically in the same pack, he'll visit and help mentor Julie if we ask."

"What about a pack?" She frowns. "I don't want to join a bunch of strangers."

"Then join the Hale pack," Derek says after a beat. You and Cora look at him in surprise, but he only has eyes for your baby sister and dad. "We can locate further south so Julie doesn't have to leave anyone behind."

"Der, are you serious?" You shakily ask.

He glances at you and smirks. "Of course. We'll start house hunting if your sister agrees."

You glance at Julie and her eyes are wide. A moment passes and then she looks at you, a relieved smile taking over. "Yeah. Uh, yeah. I'll join if it's okay with my dad?"

Everyone looks at Ray. "Why do I get the feeling my grocery bill just got a whole lot higher?"

You, Cora, and Derek laugh. "Don't worry, dad. As alpha, it's Derek's job to provide for the pack."

Over the next couple of days, Derek and Ray spend a lot of time in Ray's office- the alpha filling in your dad about pack politics since Julie was still so young. Stiles has already been called, but he had a few things to take care of before he could make the trip down south. So until then, you, Derek, and Cora were going to be staying with your family. Derek took to searching for a new pack house while you and Cora happily told the younger generation about your favorite pack stories.

Julie, Ray, and Carlos have a chaperone everywhere they go, but surprisingly no one complains. You and Cora had to take a brief leave from school, citing family emergencies, and you spend the newfound time protecting your family.

Unfortunately, before Stiles can show up and lay protection wards around the house, the omega werewolf strikes again. Fortunately, however, your dad is with Carlos at one of his baseball games so they're not there to witness the brief brawl.

You and Cora are sitting on the back balcony, listening to Julie and the boys rehearse. Derek had gone for a quick jog around a few blocks, most likely scenting the area for anything out of the norm, and you were in charge of holding down the fort. But the comfort of your house and the fact that nothing had recently happened made you let your guard down, and the opposing werewolf was smart enough to stay down wind.

But then there's glass shattering, the music suddenly cuts out, and Julie's shout pierces through her still live microphone. Without second guessing yourselves, you and Cora get up and jump over the balcony railing. You both land in a crouch, faces immediately transformed, growling. You're quick to straighten up, running towards the studio and throwing open the door.

Julie is huddled into Alex's side with Reggie and Luke brandishing their guitars as weapons in front of them. The werewolf in question is nearly six feet tall with electric blue eyes and a lean build. He's more clean-cut than you remember, but it's the same wolf you saw inside your house. It's a quiet stare-off, but the moment your eyes track to the completely shattered bay windows at the back of the studio a snarl rips free.

"Walk towards us," Cora says. "Do not turn your back on him."

The moment Julie takes a step back, the other werewolf growls and shifts in agitation.

"Try it and you're dead," you seethe.

There's a moment of hesitation and then he's lunging. Cora lunges for the male werewolf while you lunge for your sister, you shoving her and Alex aside. Luke and Reggie are quick to poof out of the way, and then reappear at the couch where Alex and Julie are huddled together. The snarling of Cora and the other werewolf keeps you on edge, and you join your packmate in clawing and shoving, and making sure you do not damage your mom's beloved studio too much.

You and Cora receive a few blows and gashes of your own, but Julie's frantic heartbeat has the two of you fighting for her. You try to fight with all your might, but you know you're in trouble when you and Cora both show obvious signs of tiring whereas the male werewolf still looks as anxious as ever to get his hands on your sister.

A mistake on your part has the male werewolf taking the upper hand, he kicking Cora away and grabbing you by your throat. The sudden action startles you and your lack of air makes you panic. So instead of using your full strength to break his hold, you claw at the hand squeezing your throat.

"Stop. Stop!" Julie pleads.

But her cries fall on deaf ears and it takes the roar of an alpha to startle the male werewolf into dropping you.

As you gasp for air and scramble towards your sister, you look towards the studio doors to see Derek standing there with glowing red eyes. Derek, half transformed, is completely more terrifying than either you or Cora, and even though you're part of Derek's pack you can't help the uptick of your heartbeat at the power radiating off him.

"The girl is under protection of the McCall-Hale pack," Derek growls. "In fact, this entire territory is now ours. You have until sunrise to be gone or I'll rip your throat out with my teeth if any of us ever see you again."

The werewolf has the audacity to growl at Derek, but you and Cora are quick to flank your alpha. The two of you growl threateningly behind his back and as the opposing werewolf glances between the three of you, he grunts and slowly backs away towards the window he'd thrown himself through.

The second he's gone, Derek leans towards Cora. "Follow him. Make sure he leaves." A growl rumbles from her chest to show she understands and a moment later she's disappearing out the same damaged window. Derek takes a deep breath and let's it out before looking over at your sister. "You okay?"

Reggie blinks and then huffs softly. "Well I think I ghost peed a little, but I'm fine."

"Same, dude," Luke nods. "That was intense."

Your werewolf features fade as you fail to contain your laugh, Alex then glancing over at his friends. "You guys are so lucky you can play instruments and sing."

Julie giggles and you step forward to lean against Derek's arm. "I'm pretty sure Der was talking to my sister."

"Oh."

"I'm fine," Julie says. "But he's not- he won't come back, will he?"

"Not unless he wants an alpha to rip him to shreds," you tell her.

"I'm gonna follow after Cora and make sure the rogue is gone. You good here?"

You glance up at Derek and nod. "Yeah. We're good." Derek smirks at you and you roll your eyes, nudging him to go. After a moment he jogs out of the studio, no doubt following Cora's scent. Someone clears their throat and you glance back at your far too amused sister. "What?"

"So.." she drawls, "care to explain what that just was?"

"What what was?" You ask.

Luke starts to smile. "You totally have a thing for the scary wolf." Alex and Reggie eagerly nod in agreement.

"What? I do not."

"You totally do," Julie says.

"Oh whatever." You roll your eyes, willing yourself not to blush or smile. You'd be damned if you let them in on that particular secret crush, even though you were pretty sure it was mutual. "We have more important things to discuss like fixing the window and informing dad of what went on without freaking him out."

Julie's smile slowly fades. "Are things always going to be intense like what we just saw?"

"I hate to break it to you, baby girl, but yes. Sometimes worse."

"Oh great."

"But you're going to be a total badass," you assure her as you walk towards her. You kneel in front of her, taking her hands in your own. "Stiles is the best and he will make sure you know everything to protect yourself and those close to you. And besides, you'll have three badass werewolves just a few blocks over. You won't be alone."

"Are you sure? I'm still kind of young. I don't want to put your pack in any danger."

You shake your head. "You won't. I don't mean to brag, but the Hale name carries some weight. Scott kind of made a name for himself as well, so when everyone finds out you're under our protection it'll be okay. Trust me, sis. It won't always be this scary."

"Well as long as you're positive."

"I am. Now come on." You let go of her hands and pat the tops of her thighs as you stand. "Let's go find something to eat and call Stiles. We'll see if he can speed up his trip out here."

#julie and the phantoms imagine #teen wolf imagine #jatp x reader #julie and the phantoms #teen wolf #julie molina #derek hale #cora hale #ray molina #luke patterson #alex mercer #reggie peters

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 3 years ago

Text

From Chin To Yon Rah (Part 39)

This part was typed mostly on mobile. Sorry for any typos.

She remembers the first time she had seen snow. The feeling...it was bizarre. If she were to be completely honest, she would best compare it to the sensation of her worst days--the days when her mind is slipping and everything feels off and nothing feels real. But instead of fear, she feels awe. Instead of dread, she feels an almost childlike sense of delight.

And perhaps, in some sense, she is a child again; she has something new to discover. Something curious and strange.

"Hajime,look." She points out the window. "It's everywhere." And perhaps it is a silly thing to ask but she inquires anyhow, "how do we walk through it?"

"Like you walk anywhere else?" He quirks a brow.

"But in the Water Tribes...I've heard that there is special equipment used to navigate the snow."

He laughs, "the snow isn't that deep here!" He opens the door and gestures for her to exit.

"It's cold." She complains. Even under her winter wools, she finds herself shivering. And here Atsu goes, dashing out into the winter with no coat at all.

"Git back in here!" Hajime calls. "I tol' you last year 'bout going outside without a coat!"

Atsu comes to a halt, the magic of the morning coming to an abrupt pause with him. " But dad!"

"You need to help Rikka get dressed, she never had to wear a winter clothes before."

This seems to allure the boy and with a wide and gleeful grin he darts back into the house. "Hurry up and put your coat and gloves on, Rikka! We have to build snow people and throw balls of snow at each other and…" he chucks a coat and a pair of gloves at her--Hajime's she assumes based upon the size of them.

Azula stuffs her fingers into the gloves. Only one layer doesn't seem sufficient but another layer or two seems to aggravatingly restrict her finger movements and if she is going to destroy Hajime and Atsu at this snowball war, she is going to need a full range of movement from her fingers.

She steps out into the snow, she hears it sift beneath her weight. So far everything is going accordingly, there is no ice to land her on the ground.she deduces that, in most places, the snow only reaches up to her ankles which is, though an inconvenience, manageable enough. But she can't imagine that running from enemy fire will be as easy. She supposes that if she needs a speedy getaway she can just melt some of the snow and listen to Atsu screech about her cheating. Perhaps she would feel more guilty over it if Atsu weren't a merciless little brute. He does not wait for her to assemble her protective mound of snow before bombarding her with an onslaught of tightly packed snow.

"Gotcha!" He whoops with each hit that she fails to evade. It would seem that while she was assessing her surroundings he hand been stockpiling an extensive artillery.

"Geez, Atsu, show mercy, this is her first snowball fight." Hajime chuckles from his spot on the porch.

It is a nice thought but Atsu, the feral beast, knows nothing of mercy. He tosses snowball after snowball. She manages to create only one but before she can throw it, Atsu fires another shot. And this one sails directly down the front of her shirt. She feels it slide from her chest to her belly leaving her with a full body shudder as itself away. She had dropped her snowball. Never in her life has she felt anything quite like it; uncomfortable and somewhat biting but I'm a way that wasn't exactly painful.

She tosses a pathetically pleading glance to Hajime who throws his head back in a howling laugh. "Alright, alright." He gets to his feet and steps out into the battlefield.

"Uh oh…" Atsu mumbles, he is now we'll aware that he should have built himself a snow fortress. Azula gives him a smug smile as she lifts a new snowball.

"Uh oh." He repeats as her very second snowball sails right into his face.

Maybe she should feel guilty over it but he isn't crying and he brushes it right off. And besides, she is certain that he was aiming for her face the whole time anyways, he simply didn't have the arm strength to land any hits higher than chest level.

And by the end of the hour she is almost embarrassed by how satisfied she feels to have beaten a child at a children's game. Any tickles of shame are washed away by Atsus delightful giggles. His enthusiastic, "wait until Caihong and Kim get here! We'll kick yer butts until you don't have butts no more!"

People have bestowed upon her many threats. But none have been quite like that.

That day she learns that Atsu is very much a little shit and that, likely, she will never truly shake her competitive nature.

.oOo.

She has been to plenty of awkward dinners but the silence of this one is so thick that it is dizzying. She can’t help but notice the way that Sokka twiddles his thumbs and looks in every direction but his father’s and Katara’s. It occurs to her that he is ashamed of her. Is embarrassed to be seen with her. She supposes that it is a good thing that the snow storm has picked up too strongly to go for a stroll through the village. She can only imagine what sort of looks she will get from everyone else. A firebender...the princess among people who the Fire Nation has displaced and nearly destroyed. She is everything that they detest and she supposes that Sokka has every right to be embarrassed by that. Embarrassed in the same way that she had been to parade him around the Fire Nation at first.

“Aren’t you going to say anything, dad?”

The man gives something between a hum and a sigh, “I’m trying to figure out what to say.” Hakoda looks at her. His face isn’t as steely with stubbornness as Katara’s.

Azula stares at her palms. She should take her mittens off. But any little motion will draw too much attention. Not that Katara's resentful gaze has left her since she got to the table. She wants to have a taste of her seaweed stew but she is already mildly nauseous with nervousness and the scent of the stew doesn't exactly kindle her appetite.

"Just talk to her for a bit, dad, you'll like her." Sokka promises.

The flutters in her tummy intensify that much more. She wishes that he wouldn't make promises that even he isn't certain of.

"She likes history and strategizing just like you do and…"

"And she used it to foil our invasion and get him sent to the Boiling Rock." Katara folds her arms across her chest.

Azula cringes to herself, truth be told, she had forgotten about that. Comparatively speaking, it seemed much less profound than some of her other misdeeds.

"Yeah well she's done a lot of changing since then." Sokka insists. “See, she even has the redemption haircut!”

“The what?” Azula finally speaks up.

“Yeah, Zuko said he cut his hair before joining us and now look at him, he’s happy--but in a grumpy old man sort of way, he’s a good friend, and he’s got long flowing tresses.”

Azula rolls her eyes. She isn’t sure if she wants to slug the man to death right in front of his father and sister or if she finds his recant amusing. She supposes that it would ruin her chances to make amends of she murdered Sokka now. “It wasn’t a redemption haircut I had matted hair and, maybe, lice.” Ji-Zhang had only mentioned it being matted. She supposes if she had lice that they would have shaved…

“Azula.” Sokka manages to cut through her comfort musings. Granted her musings weren’t at all pleasant but her inner monologue very much beats the external alternative.

She realizes that Hakoda has extended his hand. It is far less formal than a bow but she will take what she can get. He gives her hand a shake. “I’m Hakoda.”

“Sokka told me that, already. And he has already told you my name.”

Sokka flushes, “you’re supposed to introduce yourselves to each other.” And then he turns to his father, “she’s still working on the whole having a normal conversation thing. It runs in the family.”

“I can have a normal conversation just fine.” She folds her arms and holds her head high.

“Well it’s...interesting to formally meet you, Azula.”

“Dad!” Katara says sharply. “She’s not a part of this family. I don’t care how much Sokka likes her.”

“Come on Katara.”

“Don’t ‘come on Katara’ me! You’re the one trying to welcome her into the Water Tribe.”

“I get it, this is for the whole Jet thing isn’t it.”

This time Katara blushes.

“Who is Jet?” Azula furrows her brows.

“Yes, who is Jet?” Hakoda agrees.

“You don’t know about Jet?” Sokka asks at the same time as Katara says, “you weren’t supposed to tell him about Jet!”

“Jet’s just some jerk that flooded a whole village full of kids. To drive out some Fire Nation soldiers.”

“Gaipan?”

“Yeah.” Sokka nods. “You know about that.”

Azula returns the nod. “We lost a few soldiers there. There were noble men and women.” She pauses. “Stubborn too. They might have been alright if they fled with the rest of the village but…”

“Firebenders and their pride.” Hakoda clicks his tongue.

She wants to call the man on his generalization but frankly she hasn’t met a firebender yet who didn’t value pride. And maybe that is why it is so hard for her to apologize to Katara and Hakoda. Though she isn’t certain that she particularly needs to apologize to Hakoda--he had led an invasion to defeat her father. He had encroached on her land. It was her duty to see those plans foiled. Though pointing that out probably won’t serve her too well.

“Can you give her a chance, Katara? I gave Jet a chance.”

“No you didn’t. You were protesting and whining the whole time.”

“And I ended up being right.”

“So will I.” With those three words, she storms out into the snow.

“That went flawlessly.” Azula grumbles.

“Just give her some time, she’ll come around when she realizes that you’re actually kind of a really sweet person.”

“I will set everything you love on fire…”

“You just like to pretend that you aren’t.” And to Hakoda he mutters, “It’s part of the firebender pride thing. You can’t let anyone know that you’re nice.” He slings an arm over her shoulder and pulls her in closer.

Azula sighs, it is going to be a long, long vacation or whatever in the spirits’ name she could call this.

#Avatar The Last Airbender #Azula #Sokka #Sokkla #Fanfiction

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dirt-cup-draco · 4 years ago

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Jaskier x Reader- Songbird and Dove

For love languages: Could I request Jaskier + Words of Affirmation, please? Thanks so much!!

Jaskier ran his calloused fingertips over the swoops and curls of every word. It felt unreal holding this cursed paper in his hand. He scoffed, trying to keep tears at bay. Geralt would have actually tried to see if the letter was cursed and Jaskier did wish it was something so easy to fix. Jaskier had to chew on his lip until blood welled up and shocked him back into a more stable set of mind as the iron hit his tongue.

He had a funeral to plan.

“And what’s a darling thing like you doing in a shit hole like this?” Jaskier had ambled over to your table where you picked at a stew, legs travel wary and mind numbed. No room for playful flirting with a drunk bard.

“Trying to eat in peace,” You said softly, no real venom attached. You would have been all for a nice time with the handsome man but you were simply too exhausted to enjoy anyone’s company.

What you weren’t expecting however was for the high energy man who had been tossing back another ale and belting it out on stage no more than five minutes before the sit down heavily beside you, his wide grin melting away to something far more gentle as he rolled his head on his shoulders to relieve some tension.

“Now correct me if I’m wrong but-” He was cut off by two men who had gotten into a fight near the bar, their raised voices interrupting everything as they began to throw punches. Soon enough they were thrown out and you turned your gaze back to the now exhausted looking bard. “-but it feels nearly impossible to find peace here,”

For some reason you felt like his words held more weight. It wasn’t just here that he was finding no peace. You got another drink and ordered one for him too, amused at the way his eyebrows raised to his forehead, gratitude and apprehension in his eyes.

“Where do you go for peace then songbird?” You teased, nudging his leg underneath the table glad to see that the stranger who had fallen into a sober melancholy moments before had a smile ready on his face again. It seemed more genuine than the charismatic smile he had approached you with.

“The name is Jaskier, feel free to wear it out,” He added almost like it was second nature and you rolled your eyes fondly. “But I’d let you call me anything,” You had to giggle. He was charming like this. Head thrown back as the impressing of his peers made him tired. His face gleamed with a layer of sweat but he wasn’t grimy like most of the patrons of the inn.

“Alright Jaskier, seeing as I’m too young not to live life-” You stood, hand stretched out to him and it only took a moment for him to accept your offer- his seat screeching loudly against the rough flooring. “I’ll give you my company for the night on the condition you take me somewhere peaceful.”

“Ah yes, waste your young years on an old man like me.” Jaskier winked playfully. He couldn’t be more than five years your senior so you couldn’t help but snort at the insinuation of his age yet envy burned in your heart and you had to stomp it out quickly before your own feelings of being in unfair world took over your mind for the night.

Squeezing your hand with a comfortable level of affection the many surprisingly didn’t take you to his room at the inn but instead lead you out the front door. You went to the stables and you wrinkled your nose as you could smell the horses long before you could see them.

“The stables?” You questioned. One hand in Jaskier’s, the other hovering near the dagger at your hip. He was a charming man with honest eyes and you had followed him this far yet you weren’t going to forget all caution.

He glanced down to your hand and laughed softly. “Please dont gut me in front of Daisy, she’d be horrified,”

“Daisy?” you puzzled.

“My darling and dashing steed!” Jaskier dropped your hand to take two more long and dramatic strides to a stunning dark horse with expressive eyes, a white spot on her rear somewhat resembling the flower Jaskier had mentioned.

He kissed her snout affectionately and she shook her head, making a fuss. “Attitude just like Roach I tell you,” Jaskier laughed but it seemed his words caught up to him and his shoulders slouched with a curious wait.

You kept quiet as shadows of the past darkened his demeanor but a stomp of Daisy’s hoof at not being given attention had brought him back and he sent you a sheepish look. “Would the lady like to sit in front or behind me?” He asked, drawing Daisy out of her pen.

You shrugged but then thought on it a moment before helping yourself onto Daisy’s back as Jaskier kept her calm and steadied. “I think I’d like to if you’ll only tell me where to go,songbird”

Jaskier hoisted himself up behind you, his arm now soothingly tight against your midsection, your back relaxing against his chest. Your stomach did flips and you decided it was no waste to spend your time with this man even if you suspected it would only be for a night.

Jaskier ran his fingers down Daisy’s mane, a gash in his chest that he couldn’t heal. Oh how much simpler it had been to be Geralt’s companion when all he had to do was make coin, be a nuisance and slap a bandage on whatever bled whether it was him or his grumpy companion.

He couldn’t place a bandage over his heart however and so he was steadily dying from the inside out. “I’d join her but who would take care of you?” Jaskier sighed, forehead pressed against Daisy’s neck, a smile twitching at the man’s lips as she let out a huff of air as if she was telling him he better not go anywhere.

The letter stayed folded neatly in his doublet yet it felt like it had caught fire and was now burning away through him. Even as Daisy began to trot steadily Jaskier couldn’t come to terms with his destination.

“Where next?” You skipped alongside Jaskier as he waded through a field- Daisy tied to a tree nearby- sometimes catching sight of an herb or flower he collected. You had noticed in the few weeks youd been traveling with him that he had a sharp eye that seemed out of place for such a silly man.

However you had also found that Jaskier was far more than a bard. He was intelligent and quick and every night you two settled down too far away from an inn he’d be quick to get a fire going, food already caught in a trap he’d set. You’d asked the first night you’d stayed together where he’d learned such things but he had fallen silent before changing the subject to a certain star in the sky and you hadn’t tried again.

Jaskier thought on it a moment, grabbing a daffodil before you trampled it. He paused for a moment and you lingered with him. “The coast maybe,” He mumbled, eyes searching yours as he tucked the yellow flower behind your ear his other hand warm against your cheek.

“Will you be coming with me?” Jaskier hesitated to ask, eyes now focusing on the swaying blades of grass as a breeze swirled around you. You grinned wide, pulling him closer to you into a hug and resting your ear over his heartbeat with thumped wildly with his insecurities.

“What would a songbird be without their dove?” You jested, having grown fond of the nickname he’d given you the night he’d taken you to a quiet spot in the woods declaring it to be his peace, his muse. You hadn’t realized then that you would follow Jaskier wherever he traveled.

At your words he settled down considerably, pressing a warm kiss to your forehead that made your heart leap. There wasn’t need for words between you two as you walked hand in hand back to Daisy and began picking up. To the coast you would go.

Jaskier never thought he would go back to the place that had been haunting him for four months. The small cottage was nestled close to the edge of a cliff that made way to sand that seemed to glitter in the sun at high noon, the water stretching endlessly into a view that he had missed and longed to return to.

The daisies and daffodils you’d planted were now overgrown and took over the stone pathway to the front door and Daisy stomped impatiently as he approached the door slowly. Jaskier felt guilt tear at him. It was as if his steed was waiting for you to leave the home any second now and the three of you would go on another adventure.

His hands shook as he knocked on the door he had painted the day you two had settled in.

“Y/N? I’m here.”

You had never meant to grow so attached. Yet the months had melted away so easily in his presence and you couldn’t help it. Jaskier had become the whole part of you and you wished you could be whole for him too. You knew that would never be however as you excused yourself from your place at his side to wander into the woods.

Traveling had made an easy excuse for when you had to go off on your own. With the guise of needing to relieve yourself you would walk until you couldn’t see or hear Jaskier anymore and then you’d finally let out the harsh coughs that you forced yourself to hold in when you were with him. You didn’t need him to worry and the crimson that had started to paint your hand when you pulled away would do just that.

You wiped your hand on some grass, cleaning your mouth against a dark cloth you kept tucked away. “I’m back!” You called to Jaskier and your breath was stolen (before you could even really catch it again), from his beautiful grin as he met you halfway, picking you up and twirling you in his arms.

“I didn’t think I was gone so long to get such a greeting,”

“My dove, I need to show you something,” Jaskier said, peppering kisses all over your face until you were giggling but you had to step away before you were forced into a coughing fit.

“Then lead the way,” You smiled, hand stretched out to his knowing that there’d never be a time where he wouldn’t take it.

You couldnt withhold your gasp as Jaskier led you with sweating palms to a beautiful cottage that sat atop a cliff. The sea was gorgeous and gleaming in the distance and you were overwhelmed with it’s beauty.

“Oh Jask...” You sighed, looking back to your starry eyed lover. “It’s gorgeous but what are we doing here?”

Jaskier cleared his throat, cheeks gone red as he squeezed your hand. You had come to recognize he did it to comfort you but also when he was nervous and you didn’t quite know which time it was now.

“Y/N, I’m amazing with words as you know-” He began and you laughed, kissing his palm. “but I’m at a complete lost right now. You deserve poetry and songs and art all dedicated to you and your beauty. I’ve never met a more perfect soul and I want us to live here, together. I don’t care if we go in the right order, marriage could be next week or in five years or never. It doesn’t matter to me so long as you’re by my side,”

Your heart sped up and you melted at the same time the blood turned to ice in your veins. You’d been lying to him for so long, you had lied to him not an hour previous as you’d hid your biggest secret from the person you loved most.

“Jaskier...” You were speechless.

“I know! It’s marvelous isn’t it? We’ve been hopping towns and sleeping on shitty bed rolls for far too long my love, and now we can have this,”

“No, Jask- darling I-” You couldn’t formulate a straight thought and you could see his expression fall.

Then with your next words you froze him to the core.

“This was never supposed to happen,”

And there you left a shaking Jaskier with tears in his eyes and tears streaming down yours.

“Come in,” Came your voice, gentle as always but more exhausted than the day he’d found you, slumped over the inn’s grimy tables.

It took him another moment to open the door, but when he did he couldn’t combat the smile at his surroundings. This was how he’d pictured it, a home with you. Your shoes were at the door, the small space filled with flower pots and sunlight and his heart shattered as he saw sketches of Daisy and him scattering the walls.

“In the bedroom,” You called out and Jaskier strained his ears once again to catch your voice. He didn’t think he’d felt warm since the day you’d left him at this very cottage.

“Y/N-” He paused in the doorway, eyes wide and fists clenched at the sight of you. It was almost as if you were dissolving into the sheets and pillows around you. Your cheeks were gaunt, eyes sunked and skin gray. Your lips however were a rosy pink and Jaskier wanted nothing more to gather you in his arms and makeup for the time you two had been apart.

Makeup for not looking for you after you’d vanished.

“Songbird,” You cooed fondly, eyes brightening and you sat up at the sight of him. Jaskier startled and went to you, helping you and fluffing the pillows against your back. You playfully swatted his hand away before keeping hold. Your hands were warmer than he thought.

He sat beside you, free hand going to your cheek. You broke eye contact.

“I can sit up alone, I’m not weak- well too weak,” You laughed and it had a rasp to it he hadn’t realized before.

“You came back,” Was all he could say and you nodded.

“I think that’s what’s kept me going this long, imagining us here,” Your voice had gotten quiet and clipped and you were scared he couldn’t forgive you. “Once I realized the cottage was still under your name and that you were still paying to keep it I just...moved in. I know it’s wrong but I’ve been putting away payments so that if you can’t forgive me at least you haven’t lost your coin,”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?” Jaskier couldn’t help the anger as you started to approach the real reason you two hadn’t gotten the chance to make this a shared home. The tears were already falling and he had thought he’d been over them. “I-I thought you were just like him. Abandoning me because I’m too much, because I’m a problem and a nuisance and, and-” He was breathing heavily as the tears poured out and he slumped over, burying his face in your chest as you carded your fingers through his hair.

“I didn’t want to chain you to me, I was dying Jask and you wanted to start a new life with me and I was scared of abandoning you after building so much so I left before the damage was more,” You explained once his sobbing grew quiet even though his tears continued to dampen your shirt.

“I loved you, I love you,” Jaskier whimpered into the cotton. “We’ve lost the past- I could have been here before you- you... Why me Y/N? Why ask me here?”

His baby blue eyes were burning holes into you and you cupped his cheeks with steady hands. “Who else would I want to be here? I love you and never stopped... I know it was unfair of me to leave after Geralt but you are everything to me songbird. You’re my moon, my stars, my peace.”

“A-and thats it? You need peace?” Jaskier sniffled. “I haven’t heard from you in months and now you want me to be here so you can what? Move on peacefully?”

“I’m ready to leave this chapter of my life, it’s been weighing on me for years and I need you to be by my side when I do. I want to start a new chapter with you Jask,” You croaked, fear cutting your air supply off as you began to fear he truly couldn’t forgive you.

“You want to start-” He dropped off, looking puzzled. “But you’re dying Y/N.”

Your laugh was clear as a bell and acted as a slap to the face. “Oh darling, of course you think I’m- well instead of explaining myself why don’t you read the back of the letter I sent you?”

You plucked the letter easily from his doublet, having hoped he was still as sentimental as ever. He had mentioned he held things he cherished close to his heart and you had been praying you hadn’t lost your place.

He took the letter from you immediately, careful hands gone as he pulled the paper from the envelope. You winced seeing the past’s tears staining the paper. Oh how your poor Jaskier seemed to have been grieving.

“My songbird, please come to the cottage. I need you here with me” the front read and Jaskier had taken it as a clear sign that you were fading that he was startled to realize that he could see the faint outline of ink on the back of the page. It seemed with tear-blurred eyes he hadn’t noticed you’d written more on the sheet of paper.

“You may be halfway across the country or maybe you’ve found someone who you want to settle with again. Maybe Geralt realized his loss and you two are off battling bruxas and chimeras. I have time however, my illness having been cured by a witch who had come to the town, promising medical relief to those who couldn’t afford it. Triss, her name was. A young boy in town who brings me my meals got her attention and brought her to me. She stayed for two months working as hard as she could and I’m weak still but I’m healed Jaskier, I’m whole. Please come back to me, “

As Jaskier read this he couldn’t help but pull you into a more firm hug. You were going to be okay! And gods he was grateful you hadn’t had the chance to meet Yennefer. It seemed your faith in sorceresses was pure and he couldn’t let bitter years change that.

“You want me?” He couldn’t help but ask. The opposite had been on his mind ever since youd left him.

Your tears were renewed as you noddded fiercely, kissing the bard with more passion than ever before. “You are the best part of me Jaskier and I have never not wanted you. You are my muse even if I don’t think I’ll ever be able to compose a song or write a poem. I loved you then, I love you now, and I”ll love you forever. You gave me back life when I knew my years were running out. Now that I have time I want it to be spent with you,”

The words stuck to Jaskier’s ribs and he felt it was hard to breathe as he was overwhelmed with love. Holding you closer he vowed you two would never be parted again whether your sickness returned or not.

You were his and he was yours, after all what would your songbird be without their dove?

#jaskier x reader #jaskier #witcher #fluff #angst #i am sorry darlings its all i know #whats a timeline

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mmvalentine · 4 years ago

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Circus of Dreams, pt 4 | Feysand

Night Circus AU. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

In the end, no one came that first day. Rhys was not altogether surprised, it wasn't the first time it had happened and it certainly would not be the last.

Despite the lack of crowds, the day was not all bad. Sure, he had spent most of the day pacing his tent alone, but the minutes dancing with Feyre... well he wasn't sure when the last time he'd had that much fun was.

So, at the end of the day, when their official closing time hit and he was free to go back to his caravan, he was in a good mood and whistled as he walked.

Every night, dinner was served in the largest tent. It was an unkempt, sloppy affair, when performers were ravenous and no one was standing on ceremony. Rhys had rolled up his shirt sleeves joined the long table once he had picked up his serving of stew, and those he sat near nodded their acknowledgement without pausing their meal.

A couple of minutes later, he saw Mor enter the tent with Feyre. The ballgown was gone now, but it looked like Mor had not let her change into her faded old dress. Instead, she had Feyre in simple but elegant black wool skirt, and a soft white shirt tucked into it. They spotted Rhys and headed right to him.

"Evening ladies," he said. "Hello Rhysand, move over," Mor said, wriggling down next to him.

Feyre sat more gingerly opposite them, and Rhys' eyes sparkled at him. "It's a little rough in here," he said. "My apologies." "No," Feyre said, "I'm just surprised at how... different it is in here from out there." Rhys nodded. "We put on a beautiful show," he said, "but at night we're just a big messy family. Relaxing when you're off makes it easier to be fully engaged when you're on." Feyre smiled. "It's nice, actually. Dinners at home mostly consisted of shivering and trying to make soup out of bones." "Well then, dig in," Rhys said, and Feyre, not needing further invitation, did so.

Rhys went to sleep that night full and comfortable. But hours later, he woke to the sound of screams and the smell of smoke.

He burst out of his caravan, scanning the area, and soon found the source of the panic. Mor and Feyre's caravan was on fire, heavy benches propped up against the two doors in the side. Dark figures ran off into the night.

"You're not welcome here!" one of them shouted as he ran. Cassian took off after them, but Rhys dove toward the doors. He became aware of Amren beside him, and reached Feyre's door at the same time as Amren shoved aside the bench and yanked open Mor's. They hauled the girls out, coughing and spluttering, and dragged them away from the smoking wagon before letting them rest on the grass. A few of the others had run for buckets of water to douse the flames.

"What in the fuck was that?" Amren snapped. She was looking around furiously, propping Mor up while she searched for answers. Rhys didn't say anything, just sat grimly with Feyre as she continued coughing and checked her over for injuries. Someone ran up with water for them, and to report that the fire was now out.

Soon after, Cassian walked back into the camp, and in each of his hands was the collar of a young man. They dangled in his grip, resentment written over their faces.

"I found these," Cassian growled, addressing Amren. "And two cans of kerosene to boot." She stood, and looked them both over with disgust. "Just what in the hell do you think you're playing at?" she hissed at them. "People could have died." "Not our people," replied one sullenly. He spat at her feet.

Like lighting, Amren reached out and slapped the boy across the fight. "No," she snarled. "My people." She looked at Cassian.

"Say Cassian. Didn't we pass a big, cold looking river on the way in?" "Yes ma'am, I believe we did," was his reply. "Fantastic. Please toss these miserable excuses for men in said river, and let them know if I catch them around here again I will personally break all of their legs." "Yes ma'am." Cassian nodded, and strode off.

Amren pinched the bride of her nose. "Is everyone alright?" she asked. Mor and Feyre just nodded.

"Oh, Mor," Feyre said suddenly. "Your beautiful fabrics."

But Mor just smiled ruefully at her.

"They're just fabrics," she said. "We'll go in tomorrow and see what's left."

"Right," Amren said. "Morrigan, you can come sleep in my caravan. Feyre, go with Rhysand." She addressed the rest of the camp. "Everyone else go back to sleep. We'll leave first thing in the morning."

And with that, she left them. Mor hugged Feyre tightly, and checked again to see if she was okay. When she had ascertained that she was, she followed after Amren. And the rest of the crowd drifted off back to their caravans too.

"Come on," Rhys said gently, and took Feyre's arm under the elbow to help her up. She leaned on him as they walked, shivering slightly at the shock of what had happened.

Back in Rhys' caravan, Rhys had to help Feyre through the cramped space. He would have lit a candle, but after her ordeal, he thought it might be insensitive. So he guided her through the dark, and led her to the bed. Feyre sat down, then suddenly looked up at him with alarm in her eyes.

"Don't worry," he said. "You have the bed, I'll sleep on the floor."

Feyre looked like she was about to protest, but Rhys whipped out a spare blanket and got down before she could say anything. So, Feyre slid in between his sheets, and the thought of it made him shiver a little. He pushed the thought to the side, and closed his eyes.

A moment later, Feyre's voiced reached out though the dark.

"Rhys?" "Yes Feyre?" "They're not... coming back, are they?"

Rhys sat up. "Oh, darling. No, I shouldn't think so. Amren will have Cassian keep watch all night." "Okay," was all she said. "I'm so sorry that happened to you. What a start to your circus career." Feyre was quiet for a moment. "Thanks for pulling me out," she said. "Of course. I'm just glad we got to you quickly."

There was silence again, and Rhys had just started to drop off to sleep, when Feyre spoke again. "Rhys?" "Yes Feyre?" A pause. "I'm so sorry, I feel so deeply foolish. But I just wanted to check that you were still there." Rhys frowned into the dark. "It's not foolish. You were nearly burned alive in your caravan, I wouldn't sleep well either." "I started to drift off, then for some reason I panicked that you weren't there." "Okay. Would... would you like me to hold your hand?" Another pause. "I think that might help."

Rhys shifted closer to the bed, and tapped the frame so that she would know where his hand was. Immediately, he felt her small grip clutching him. He realised that this was the first time he was touching her without gloves, and the warmth of her skin was lovely.

"Mmm," she murmured. "That does help." Feyre yawned. "Rhys?" "Yes Feyre?" he whispered. "Thank you," she said. And shortly after that, she was asleep.

The next day, Rhys woke with a dead arm, but didn't mind. They left early, everyone a little bleary eyed, but with the scorched caravan still scenting the air with the stale smoke, no one complained as they packed up quickly and headed out of town.

Over in the next village, they set up and asked around for a carpenter to come have a look at the burnt wagon. Mor spent some time sifting through the wreckage, pulling out things that were salvageable. Unfortunately, since the boys had done such a thorough job of dousing the wood in kerosene, even though the fire hadn't burned very long the caravan was now unliveable.

They performed to a modest audience that night, and ate in relative quiet, everyone still a bit unsettled after the attack the previous night. Feyre left early, and when Rhys got back to his caravan, he found her sitting on the front step.

He gave her a gentle smile.

"Hello, Feyre darling," he said. "I... still don't have any place to live," she said by way of greeting. "Yes you do," he said. "You can live here."

Feyre turned and looked at his caravan. "It doesn't seem... very proper," she said slowly. "Well, neither does running away with the circus, and you've done that already." "I suppose that's true," Feyre mused. "If you're uncomfortable, I'm sure we can make other arrangements. Most people live with a partner or friend already, but they can always make room." Feyre shook her head. "I wouldn't want to put anyone out like that. I'm happy to stay if you are happy to have me." She paused. "Or, maybe I should just go home." "Nonsense," Rhys said quickly. "You haven't even seen half the things that need your attention. There's a massive clockwork pony that you would just love."

And so she stayed.

****

OH LOOK I COULDN'T MANAGE 2 DAYS OFF BECAUSE THE TRAFFIC STOPPED AND MY DOPAMINE SUPPLY GOT CUT OFF AND NOW I'M PANIC POSTING why am i like this you guys

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-babies @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira

#feysand #feysandfic #acotar #acomaf #acosf #rhysand #night circus AU #mine

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therealcalicali · 5 years ago

Text

Apple Thief

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Fluff and even more Angst

Type: One Shot

Wordcount: 7,003

“Y/N! You need not go.” Your ailing father called out from where he was sat by the fireplace. Though you lived in a cramped quarter, the main room was always the warmest. And due to his injury, keeping his temperature up was best. “From the looks of things, a storm is brewing. Did you hear me, Buttons?”

With a smirk you threw his cowhide overcoat atop your woolen pullover. It wasn’t as nice as the fur-lined cloaks most girls wore. But it kept you warm despite being unfashionable. After grabbing your gloves, you bounded into the main room. Peering out the window, you realized the skies were indeed overcast.

However, you couldn’t stay home.

Rain or otherwise, you had to earn some coin. Especially since the sum your Uncle left was depleted. He had given all he could before leaving for a nearby town to sell his wares. And since you had no inclination of when he would return, you had to be resourceful.

“Just look at you, Buttons….” Your father exclaimed as he did his best not to chuckle. “You look like someone cast a shrinking spell upon you.”

“The coat may be ill-fitting, but it’s warm. So, if you keep taunting me, I might never give it back.”

“Please, stay.” He said as his smile began to fade. He then pointed his walking stick in your direction. “As my only child, I have no desire to see you fall ill.”

“Papa, I cannot sit around hoping Uncle is on his way back. He is far off, and your medicines are finished. And what’s more, we are in need of foodstuffs.”

“We are not.” Your father countered. “What of the red yams and potatoes? We can get by cooking them with cabbage and carrots.”

“First off, we have two red yams and no potatoes. And as for cabbage and carrots, I used the last of them in last night’s stew. So, like it or not, I must venture out.”

“It’s times like these I wish we still had our chickens. The eggs would bring in good coin.”

“Don’t fret, Papa. I’ve been saving what Uncle gives me for my upkeep. I intend to buy at least four of them. Soon, we could even own a nice milking cow again.”

Your father’s gaze went to fireplace.

He was a proud man, and it truly hurt your soul to see him dejected. But it made sense for a former Kings’ Guard to feel inadequate. At one time, your father provided a very posh lifestyle for the family. But once he was maimed in battle, he was forcibly discharged with a paltry severance. Once that was spent, your father had no choice but to start using what had been saved.

As expected, hardship followed. So much in fact, your mother decided to abscond with the little coin that was left. That was nearly three years prior. But for you, the betrayal felt like it had occurred only yesterday.

“Papa, please do not guilt me going outdoors.” You said, walking to him and taking a knee. “If I promise to come home should the weather should take a turn, would that ease your mind?”

Reluctantly, your father nodded.

“And take my dagger.” He said, pointing to the table nearest the front door. The weapon was a magnificent piece of military craftsmanship. Something only most decorated of fighters were ever bestowed. Still, your father wanted you to have it. “From now on, it is yours.”

“But Papa, that is a relic of your service. You earned it with much blood and sweat. I cannot possibly think of wielding it. Besides, it’s far too valuable to be taken out of the house.”

“Y/N, the only thing of value that I have, is you.”

You couldn’t help smiling. After sheathing the dagger, you informed your father that you would soon return. As you exited the cottage and approached the stables, you were suddenly filled with great hope.

You made your way to the town square on the back of your Uncle’s trusty steed, Moss.

Being a thoughtful man, Gadin left town in a hired wagon so you would have transport. So, as you tied the horse to a wooden post, you gave him a soothing pat.

“Have no fear, boy. We shall not stay for long.” You said before reaching into your leather satchel. After grabbing a handful of apple slices and oats, you fed Moss. “Well, things are really bustling today. No doubt I will make some coin.”

And you had good reason for being confident. Aside from the handmade gloves you made, you intended to sell some jewelry. The silver necklace and earrings had been intended for your mother on her Naming Day. But since she abandoned the family prior to him surprising her, your father passed them to you.

When Moss suddenly whinnied and stomped his hooves, you grabbed hold of his bit.

With that, you turned on your heels and began walking toward the marketplace.

Trade was truly flourishing because you had never seen so many foreigners in Stillwell before. But it was a good sign. It meant that soon, there would be expansions and all the other benefits that came with being a thriving village.

“Move your corpse, jackass!” A gruff voice bellowed.

When you turned to see who had spoken so rudely, a grey-haired elderly man pushed past. He was in such a huff, he nearly knocked you over. It was enough to make one angry had it not been so amusing.

Because though he appeared exceptionally frail; the man hauled his cartful of wares with the strength of twenty men.

“Magic.” You mused. “Everyone that wields it or buys it, is a nuisance.”

Suddenly, something else caught your attention. From the corner of your eye, you spotted a foreboding man cloaked in black. Naturally, this piqued your curiosity. From what you could assess; the armor signified his status as a formidable warrior. Likely a mercenary or something along those lines.

You knew this because the symbol that hung from the stranger’s neck didn’t appear to belong to any King.

When you noticed the tufts of white hair peaking from his hood, you promptly realized he was no mere mortal. Mostly because such a hue was not be found amongst your kind. As he walked, the stranger behaved as if he didn’t wish to be amongst people. But despite this, he had a traveling companion. A pleasant looking fellow who seemed to be relaying information in a lively fashion.

“Those two cannot be from any of the nearby townships.” You mused. “Perhaps they hail from some of the wealthier domains.”

Realizing that you were getting distracted, you returned your thoughts to selling your wares.

As luck would have it, your devotion to Ryrdohr, the God of Wonders, paid off.

Not only did you manage to unload your mother’s earring and necklace, but the silver merchant gave a fair price. Mainly, at the behest of his partner. As you were haggling, the man had taken one look before exclaiming that you reminded him of his late niece. For that reason, he forced his miserly friend to cough up more coin.

What you received, eighty Denars, was equal to a month and a half worth of wages. Thus, you were feeling quite blessed as you walked down the pathway toward The Bargainers Lot. It was where people that didn’t own traditional stands or storefronts conducted business.

As you passed a barrel-lined walkway, you heard a faint whistle. There, stood only yards away, a shabbily dressed boy, no older than twelve beckoned.

“Lass, might you have any food to spare?” He asked, glancing over his shoulder before looking at you again.

“Do not take me for a heartless person, little boy. But why ask such a thing whilst standing in an alleyway?”

“Apologies…….” He said as he rubbed his hands together. “But I must take care. I do not want the Sentries to see me begging. They are quite rough with street children these days.

Your father was right. It did appear that a storm would soon come. For that reason, you wished to give the child something. Enough to buy some food and even bestowing a pair of the gloves you intended to sell.

However, you had no desire to enter the alleyway to do so. After all, nothing good ever came of venturing into secluded places.

“If you want food..…..” You said, reaching to your coat pocket and producing eight Fenning. It was coin to buy two meat pies and some peach ale. But the boy needed it far more than you. “I am willing to be of help. But you must come here and------”

The first shove cut you off midsentence. But the second swiftly knocked you to the ground.

Before you grasped what was occurring, you were set upon by three other children. As you struggled to unsheathe your dagger, one kicked you in the shoulder as another seized your satchel. Infuriated, you quickly realized that you had to fight back or risk losing everything.

“I am being set upon by bandits!” You screamed. “Help!”

You had expected your words to bring someone to your aid. But after a few seconds, you realized it was for naught. In Stillwell, as in most townships, people preferred to keep to their own affairs. That meant unless a Sentry happened upon the attack, you were on your own.

When you rolled onto your back, you managed to break the buttons on your coat. With shaking hand, you finally unsheathed your father’s dagger. Taking note of this, the three children stared, wide-eyed.

“Now, you little monsters! Return my belongings before I cut your throats.”

“You will do nothing of the sort!” A raspy voice countered.

Peering into the alleyway, you spotted the owner. A man with a crescent moon upon his left cheek was now stood next to the boy that had beckoned you. Only a foot away, a fiery-haired woman aimed an arrow in your direction.

“Let’s kill her and be done with it.” She suggested.

Mercifully, he didn’t seem eager to comply. After pondering a moment, he motioned for one of the children to take your dagger. Alarmed at losing your father’s prized weapon, you pointed it menacingly.

“If you prefer, we can kill you and take it, all the same.” The man threatened.

From his tone, it was apparent that he was not simply mincing words.

He spoke very much like an experienced butcher. Still, you could not compel yourself to hand the dagger over. As the three children stared wearily, awaiting their next directives, everything suddenly went black.

“Aye, she finally returns to the living.” An amused voice announced.

As your vision adjusted to the light of day again, you winced. For whatever reason, a dull pain within your head became more prominent. Indeed, even looking at your surroundings proved difficult. Still, you managed to lift yourself off the bench and sit upright.

Since the pressure seemed to be concentrated at the base of your neck, you attempted to feel it. However, a hand swiftly caught you by the wrist.

“Do not go touching the wound, jackass.” The old man commanded. “You’ll only smear the Black Mares ointment that’s been applied.”

“Wha…………………where did those children go?”

“What children?”

It was then you realized whom you were speaking to. The old man tending you was the very same one that had nearly bowled you over. For whatever reason, he was the only person that came to your rescue.

“Sir, did you happen to see which direction those bandits went in?”

“I do not know what you speak of. But here is your eight Fenning.” He replied, shoving the coin in your palm. “It was scattered about your person when I found you.”

“But what of my satchel? Those people took everything!” You exclaimed as all that had occurred came to memory. “I must find a Sentry.”

The old man cackled as if you had said the silliest thing in the world. After stating that the Sentries did their job well, he added that they only did so for the affluent. However, someone of your caliber would have to pass coin to their hands.

“And from the looks of it Lass, you hardly have enough to sway them.”

After securing the kerchief to your head, he practically jumped his feet. You could only stare in astonishment as he then took hold of his loaded cart.

“But sir…………I have not even properly thanked you.” You said, scooting forward on the bench. “At least take this, for your trouble.”

The man eyed the four Fenning in your hand before sneering. With a gruff tone, he advised that you keep it. Adding that he did not assist you because he lacked the means to care for himself. Apologetic for offending him, you stated that you had not intended imply such a thing. Nevertheless, he had already begun walking away.

He moved so swiftly, you could only shout words of gratitude as he disappeared into the crowd.

As you entered the small shop marked ‘The Long Caravan’, you pulled your coat closer to your body.

The light rain had already begun. Thus, you knew you only had a short time before the full gale set in. Though you had been robbed, you simply couldn’t go home empty handed. Especially without your father’s necessary medicines. So, if nothing else, you meant to buy the herbs.

“I accept no beggars in my establishment.” The snobby shopkeeper announced upon seeing you. “The soup house is down the road by the Great Sawmill.”

Incensed at the insinuation, you glared at her.

She then snapped her fingers at her young assistants, ordering them to set down two massive bags. One marked ‘corn’ and the other, ‘oats’. And that’s when you saw him by the Alchemy portion of the shop. The massive stranger clad in black. Even now, he appeared disinterested in his surroundings.

This was quite peculiar since he was apparently making purchases. But as for his companion, he was gingerly conversing with the shopkeeper’s husband.

“I said, no beggars!” She said once more.

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not one!” You fumed, tired of her relentless assumptions. “I’ll have you know I’m here to purchase medicines. Or do you no longer take coin?”

Distracted by your words, the more jovial of the strangers stopped chatting.

He then leaned against a banister and folded his arms over his chest. Pardoning herself from the cloaked stranger, the woman sized you up before asking what you required.

“Four packets of Pearl Moss, two packets of Lakebarberry Leaves and four packets of Sour Quassia”

Despite wearing a spiteful expression, the shopkeeper went behind the counter. She then began measuring things out as you glanced around the shop. It was then you noticed the sizeable fruit display. From dragon pears to apples, there was good variety available.

“I’m so famished. I hope there is something left over.” You thought, pulling the eight Fenning from your pocket.

When you realized you were being watch, your head jerked in the direction of the white-haired man. At first, he appeared to be looking directly at you. But as you studied his expression, it became clear that he was looking past you.

Taking notice of his fascination, the shopkeeper’s husband went to him. He then began explaining that they had purchased the mounted head on the wall from a passing tradesman. As always, the stranger remained quiet. But suddenly, he actually glanced at you for the first time.

“Demon eyes.” You thought. “He is no mortal. Of that, there is no doubt.”

“That will be twenty Fenning.” The shopkeeper announced. “And do not dawdle, girl. I have other customers.”

You sighed. Apparently, the cost of herbs had gone up significantly since the last time. Placing all you had upon the counter, you eyed the woman.

“I……………I only have eight. However, look at these gloves I’m wearing. I made them myself. Pure cowhide with rabbit fur lining. Surely, they are worth the remainder.”

“Does this look like the trade-in post?” She snapped. “Either you have the coin, or you don’t.”

With tense jaw, you asked that she remove two satchels of Pearl Moss since it was the most expensive. But unexpectedly, the nicer of the two strangers walked over. After asking the woman to wait a moment, he looked at your hands.

“I know a lady that would really fancy those.” He said with a smile that reached his eyes. “I’m Jaskier, by the way. Nice to meet your acquaintance.”

Though your day had been nothing but terrible, you couldn’t help giving a smile in return.

“Y/N.” You replied, shaking his hand.

You then removed the smartly made gloves and set them down. When you asked if he was truly serious, Jaskier nodded firmly. After placing twenty Fenning on the counter, he took possession of his wares.

“I now have my gloves, and you, have your coin,”

Utterly beside yourself, you couldn’t help thanking him several times. Truly, he was an answer to your silent prayers. Such a show of kindness not only lifted your spirits but gave you a more optimistic outlook. While the moody shopkeeper finished tying the bundle of herbs with twine, Jaskier informed you he was a Bard.

A renowned and much sought after one, at that.

“You?” You exclaimed in astonishment.

“What’s the matter? Do I not look the part?”

“No, it’s not that. It’s just that you appear……..………you know….”

“Appear what?”

“To be quite honest. From your style of dress, I swore you were a Lord or something of the sort.”

From nearby, his companion made an odd grunt.

“Pay him no mind.” Jaskier said, looking in his direction. “He isn’t known for his manners.”

“If you take your time, I will leave you.” The cloaked man replied, ignoring the insult.

Though his tone of voice was cold, there was something within it that held some humanity. Perhaps, the Bard was his charge.

“Is that man your Hired Sword?” You asked.

The question sent Jaskier into a fit of laughter. However, his companion was not amused. In fact, he appeared meaner than he had been already. Leaving your side, Jaskier went to the shopkeeper’s husband and pointed to the waterskins.

It was then the woman finally handed you the satchel of herbs.

As you walked to the middle of the shop, you realized it was now raining quite hard. Not wanting to get your purchase wet, you opened your coat and pushed the satchels into the inner breast pocket. After closing the flap, you were buttoning your coat when the apples caught your eye.

Though you had eight Fenning left, thanks to Jaskier, you had not desire to spend it. So, as the storeowners busied themselves with their wealthier patrons, you began slipping a few into your coat. But as you finished taking the sixth and last one, the woman swiftly rushed over.

“Thief!” She shrieked, grabbing hold of your coat immediately. “I knew you were trouble from the moment you set foot in here!”

Though you were caught, you wished to turn the items over yourself. However, the shopkeeper refused to let go.

“I’m no thief!” You protested. “At least…………………….not really.”

“Not a thief, she says! Well, we shall see about that.” The woman mocked, holding your coat more firmly.

She then began shaking the fabric until the apples started coming lose. One by one, they soon dropped to the ground at your feet.

“Hmm. The girl is either an apple tree, or a thief.” Geralt remarked.

He then picked up the bags of corn and oats and hoisted them over his shoulder. As he walked to the exit of the shop, Jaskier stared at you and the shopkeeper. From his expression, you could see he felt your humiliation.

Thus, you averted your gaze.

“Geralt!” Jaskier yelled as he departed into the busy street. Though it was now raining, he made no attempt to seek cover. “Geralt! We cannot leave that poor girl to that woman. She will likely report her to the Sentries.”

“Why do you care?”

“Well, the laws against theft in Stillwell are harsher than in most townships. And she appears quite sweet……….……………. but desperate.”

Geralt scoffed as he kept to his path.

Nevertheless, Jaskier refused to give in. As he tried to keep pace, he confessed that he felt compelled to help. And if he had to convince the storekeeper and her husband alone, he would return to the shop.

“Then, go.” Geralt replied. “But remember, I will not wait long.”

“I swear, Madame, it was not my intention to take from you.” You said apologetically. “I had a great deal of coin a short time ago. However, I was robbed of it, and the rest of possessions. It’s the only reason I didn’t wish to spend the little I have left. That’s the truth of the matter.”

“Do not give me your sad tales.” The shopkeeper snapped. “When the Sentinels come, you may tell it to them, if you like.”

Just as you were about to drop to your knees and beg her mercy, Jaskier returned. With damp hair, he walked over and looked the woman straight in the eye.

“Allow me to pay for the value of the apples, plus a little extra for compensation.” He said. “Surely, that ought to be enough to allow the girl to leave peaceably.”

It sounded like a reasonable solution. But to his astonishment, the woman refused. After stating she was tired of your “type”, she added that you had to be an example.

“I cannot have every thieving liar thinking my shop is a free market. She must be turned over to the Sentinels.”

“Madame, have mercy.” You implored. “I cannot be away from my father for days on end. He is a cripple. If he is left alone, he could fall ill or even worse.”

Jaskier’s expression went soft. The revelation only made him more determined to be of help. But no matter how much he argued your case, his words fell on deaf ears.

“Natasja.” The shopkeepers husband said as he approached. “The girl seems genuine. Besides, she didn’t take anything of true worth. Only food. It’s obvious that she meant no real harm.”

Despite his attempt to defuse the situation, his wife proved hardheaded. With a hand still grasping your coat, she informed both he and Jaskier that she had already sent one of the shop assistants to fetch a Sentinel.

And thus, the four of you waited.

Whilst the time passed, the shopkeeper’s husband stated he would not give a statement. In fact, he wanted no parts of anything should the lawmen ask anything of him. Still, his wife didn’t seem moved.

“Bastien, if that is what you wish, so be it. But I will make sure this girl is made an example of. I will not become a target for every poverty-stricken bastard.”

“How dare you! I’m no bastard!” You seethed. “My father is an honorable man. He was a King’s Guard in Narin.”

“Ah, King Jethofius.” Jaskier mused with an impressed expression. “It’s said that he only commissions the most-skilled.��

“Most-skilled.” The shopkeeper repeated with a chuckle. “You keep listening to her tales.”

Angered by her flippant attitude, you countered that you spoke the truth. Not just about your father, but about being robbed earlier in the day. But none of that mattered. Because it wasn’t long before two well-armored Sentinels entered the shop.

“That is her.” The young worker said, pointing you out.

With annoyed expressions, the two men walked over. After politely acknowledging everyone, they looked you over.

“Your boy tells us that you caught the thief in the act.” The taller of the Sentinels said. “What did she take.”

“Apples.” Jaskier interacted. “Simple, ordinary apples. Hardly anything to take you from your patrol.”

The shopkeeper cut him a mean glare, however, she added that he was correct. You had stolen apples.

“But I would hardly say it is trivial. A thief, is a thief at the end of the day.”

“Do you wish to have her locked away until you can petition the Justice?”

When the shopkeeper nodded, her husband grumbled. He truly disliked how his wife had forgotten their struggles. There had been times even they came close to stealing. And though they never did so, he understood your plight.

“Let me state this now. I will not participate.” He announced.

Somewhat taken aback, the Sentinels looked between the husband and wife. One then grabbed you by the arm.

“Alright, it’s time to go.”

“Please! There must be something I can do to make things right.” You protested as you looked at the shopkeeper. “I am needed at home!”

“You should have thought about that before you went about nicking things.” The man countered. “Now either you move your legs, or I’ll resort to brute force.”

“I wouldn’t do that.” Geralt said in a calm tone.

When you all looked towards the entrance, he was stood there with an annoyed expression. In an unhurried pace, he made his way over. He then scowled at poor Jaskier, who could do nothing but shrug in response.

“Stranger, this is none of your affair.” One of the Sentinels cautioned. “It’s best you keep moving before you are charged with interfering with the law.”

“The girl is my servant.” Geralt said, ignoring everything he had said. He then tossed the shopkeeper’s husband a small black pouch. “That’s nine Denars. Twenty times the value of what she took.”

Angered by the meddling, the shopkeeper declared she wanted justice, not coin. She then informed the Sentinels that Geralt did not speak truthfully. You had come to the shop alone, thus, you were not a servant of either man. But as she continued raving, her husband suddenly placed a hand upon her shoulder.

“Do not take offense, love…” He began. ‘But for once, shut your mouth.”

Ever the jovial one, Jaskier burst into gleeful laughter.

This caused one of the Sentinels to chuckle as well. However, things quickly subsided when Geralt shot both men a severe look. Approaching the lawmen, the shopkeeper’s husband first apologized for wasting their time. He then assured them that the coin was more than enough to resolve the matter.

“It appears there is nothing for you to do here. But gratitudes, all the same.” He added.

Obviously, the shopkeeper was livid. But as she followed the Sentinels, they ignored her pleas to return.

“So, we may take our leave?” Geralt asked of the husband.

“Aye.” He replied. “The little Lass is free to go.”

“I cannot stay.” You protested as you entered the Blue Raven Tavern with Jaskier and Geralt. “I must begin my journey home!”

As expected, it the place was quite busy due to the storm. As you were guided to a table, the patrons appeared to be mostly traveling merchants, migrants and Mercenaries. All of them in search of a temporary place of shelter until the weather improved.

“Sit.” Geralt gruffly commanded.

Naturally, his tone didn’t sit well with you.

“My Lord, I am no dog!” You protested despite doing as asked. “I’m quite grateful for your show of kindness. And as promised, I intend to repay the coin you parted with. But I must ask that you speak to me like I am a person.”

After staring for a moment, Geralt simply looked away. Frustrated by his odd behavior, you gave Jaskier your attention. Unfortunately, he was too busy staring at the ample breasts of the Tavern maid.

“Look here! Do you intend to ogle me all night or is there something you are in need of?”

“Oh, I am in need of many things.” Jaskier replied cheekily. “But let us start off with a pitcher of Black Mead. And perhaps a platter of rose-honey rolls with fresh churned butter on the side.”

The woman gave a flirtatious smirk before turning to leave. As she walked, Jaskier stared at her equally ample backside.

“You have coin for that?” Geralt asked.

“No, but you do.”

When he took note of your smile, Jaskier stated he had spent most of his coin repairing his lute. He then lifted it for you to see. From the way he spoke of it, you could tell the instrument held great sentimental value.

“It’s simply exquisite.” You remarked. “It makes my Uncle’s own look plain by comparison.”

“Do you play?” Jaskier asked with great excitement.

Reluctantly, you confessed that you did. Adding that music was one of the main sources of entertainment in your household. When you stated that you could play most string instruments, Geralt closed his eyes. Seeing the two of you bonding over your music, made him fear either of you playing a song.

Because after the exploits they had encountered in the last township, he had no desire to hear noise.

“Would you play something?” Jaskier asked, passing you his lute.

You were flattered that he would entrust you with his prized possession. However, you hesitated. Though you knew many songs, you played according to mood. And with how you were feeling, a sorrowful melody was likely to come through.

“Go on, Lass!” A man drunken man shouted from a nearby table. “Help me drown out my talkative companions.”

Carefully, you positioned the lute, finding that your fingers eased about the instrument comfortably. With a deep breath, your eyes shut so you could drown the noise around you. From the pluck of the first note, a sense of peace washed over you.

youtube

You were no longer in a dimly lit, packed Tavern. But rather, sat by the scenic lake nearest your cottage.

As you played, the commotion in the establishment began to die down. From weary traveler, to the most imposing of Hired Sword, everyone was soon listening to your haunting melody. As for Jaskier, he rested his cheek in hand as he watched.

It wasn’t often he came across someone like you. Not only were you amiable, but you now proved to be quite talented. After setting down the rolls and pitcher of Black Mead, the Tavern Maid observed a while before getting to her work.

She too seemed to prefer music over the usual cursing and threats to take fights outdoors.

When you struck the last chord, you were astounded by the eruption of cheers and mugs hitting the tabletops. Your father and Uncle always complimented your playing. However, you had assumed they only flattered you because they were family.

With a bashful expression, you passed the lute back to Jaskier.

“Y/N, you are quite fascinating.” He remarked. “Not only can you sew beautifully, but you have the makings of a Bard.”

“Though I hardly deserve such praise, I will accept it graciously.”

“Good. Now, how about you start eating while I pour us some mead.”

Naturally, you were still quite famished; however, you didn’t want to make a pig of yourself. So instead of taking several rolls, you took one and began spreading the butter. As you were doing so, you realized Geralt staring at you once again.

“My Lord, is there something on my face?”

Though he appeared irritated by your very voice, he replied that you were bleeding. How he could know such a thing was a mystery. Because, at present time, you were sat across from both he and Jaskier.

When you touched the back of your head, and looked at your palm, Geralt was proven correct. Apparently, the wound had begun to seep.

“Oh!” Jaskier exclaimed. “That’s why that fabric is about your head. All this while, I thought it was some new trend.”

“If only.” You replied with a weak smile. “An old man applied ointment to my head before tying this. I only wish I got his name before he disappeared.”

As you removed the kerchief and folded it, Geralt reached inside his cloak. He then produced a small vial and held it towards you.

“Here. Drink this.”

“My Lord, I will do no such thing.” You replied. “First, tell me what it is. Even better, tell me how you knew I was bleeding.”

Despite your words, he said nothing more. Instead, Geralt studied you as if you were an inanimate object.

“My Lord…………”

“For the last time, I am no Lord.”

“Oh, so you CAN put more than five words together.” You jested. “At any rate, since you refuse to tell me how to best address you, I shall keep using the title. My father says it’s best to err on a high position.

Refusing to be drawn into banter, Geralt set the vial on the table.

He then took hold of his mug and got to his feet. When Jaskier asked where he was off to, he nodded towards the door. Despite the storm, it appeared that he was in no mood for company or conversation. As Geralt departed the table, you watched with great curiosity.

“How did he know I was bleeding?” You asked, your gaze following his dominating figure out the Tavern. “Is he part Demon?”

“Demon? Why do you assume such a thing?”

“For one thing, his hair. That alone tells me that he is no mere mortal. But also, his eyes. They seem…………well…………sinister.”

Though he tried, Jaskier burst into laughter. Indeed, he had called Geralt many things whenever they fought. But sinister, was not one of them. Between chuckles, he assured you that his brooding companion was no Demon. In fact, he was one of the few people that stood between such creatures and the innocents.

But from your expression, it appeared you weren’t convinced.

“Why do I get the feeling that you distrust, Geralt?”

“It’s not that, my Lord.” You replied. “However, where I’m from, magic and magical being are not trusted. People are put to death for simply buying magical items.”

“But Stillwell seems quite open-minded.”

“I did not grow up here. I spent most of my life in Narin.”

“Oh, that’s right. Your father was King’s Guard there.” Jaskier remarked, recalling your past conversation. “Tell me, how did you come to reside here?”

Though you stated it was a long tale, he shrugged. Lifting his mug, he reminded you that there was nothing but time. After all, the storm didn’t appear to be letting up anytime soon. Since they had been so kind, you figured it wasn’t an unreasonable request. Thus, you quickly decided to oblige.

So, as Geralt sat in the enclosed stables, drinking his mead beside Roach and Moss, you shared your life with Jaskier.

“Apple thief.” Geralt exclaimed.

He the grabbed hold of Moss’s bit before rolling his eyes.

Though you had insisted on riding, it was apparent that you were too fatigued. Not only had you fallen asleep twice, but you kept saying things that made little sense. Typically, such a thing wouldn’t be cause for alarm. Especially since your Uncle’s steed followed your companions at a good pace. However, you had also nearly fallen both times.

And since a broken neck would do no one any good, Geralt was becoming irate.

“Y/N, you slept again.” Jaskier remarked as he brought his hired mare alongside. “Either you ride with one of us, or risk having an even worse headwound.”

You yawned as you looked about the forest. Though you had given proper directions, your mind was hazy.

“Are you certain we’re headed the right way?” You asked as you stifled another yawn.

“We exited the Western gate and veered left when we passed the guard tower.” Jaskier replied. “So, by now, we are quite deep in the Highland Grove.”

Though he repeated your directions perfectly, you still had quite the time processing your surroundings. Everything felt somewhat………off.

“Perhaps it’s best if you rode with me the rest of the way.” Jaskier suggested. “Otherwise, you are likely to get hurt.”

You wavered, however, you soon brought Moss to a halt. As Geralt held the bit, you dismounted and stretched a bit more. Suddenly, his neck snapped to the left. With a tense expression, the brooding warrior peered into the darkness.

Evidently, he was observing something neither you nor Jaskier could see.

“Don’t move.” Geralt commanded.

In one swift motion, he dismounted before pressing a finger to his lips. Unsheathing his sword, he shoved you behind his person. It was then the cold of the night finally hit you. As you held your coat about you more firmly, you tensed your jaw to keep your teeth from chattering.

“There are five of you.” Geralt declared into the darkness. “If you wish to live, keep to your business.”

“And whom are you, stranger?” A voice replied in amusement. “From what I see, you appear a foreigner. Therefore, unless you are a patsy of the Magistrate or Town Council, your word holds no weight here.”

You expected Geralt to say something more. But instead, he simply grumbled before looking over his shoulder. After advising you to stay where you were, he began moving in the direction of the voice.

Without warning, the distinct sound of an arrow broke the silence.

It was enough to make you and Jaskier draw anxious breath. But had you blinked; you would have missed what came next. Though it had been headed right for Geralt, he deflected the arrow as if swatting a fly. In fact, not even his expression changed as he pressed forward.

Stopping at the tree line, he suddenly extended his free hand.

At first you were confused. What Geralt hoped to accomplish, you did not know. However, it became apparent that he was casting. Rapidly, an odd blue light formed in his palm. When satisfied with the scope of it, he released the energy into the darkness.

And it must have hit its intended target. Because what came next was a cacophony of agonizing screams and curses. When all the noise died down, three furious men came bounding out from the tree line.

“Damn abomination! You killed my mates with your sorcery!” A man wielding two blades shouted.

In the entirety of your life, you had never witnessed such a battle up close. Sure, your father and Uncle had protected the family on many occasions. However, nothing to the degree of what was before you.

“Keep behind me, Y/N.” Jaskier whispered as he kept hold of the steeds. “If anyone wanders close, I will protect you.”

You wanted to ask what weapon he intended to use. Because from observation, the only thing he could wield was his lute. Nevertheless, since it was the thought the mattered, you remained silent. As things got bloodier, you avoided the carnage by looking to the ground.

Mercifully, the violent commotion began to fade. Before long, it was replaced by the song of crickets once more. When you looked at Geralt, he hardly looked like he had just fought off three men. Not only was he breathing normally, he was calmly wiping the blood from his sword.

“You used magic on them.” You said, peeking out from behind Jaskier.

Ignoring you completely, Geralt commanded you to continue the journey on the Bard’s steed. Incensed at being snubbed, you stared at him.

“Though you are no mortal, my Lord, I must say this. You simply do not understand how things work in Stillwell.” You said as he tied a rope to Moss’s reigns. “You cannot simply execute people here. The law states that one must give opportunity for surrender.”

“Hmmm.”

“Is that it?” You asked. “You just killed five people and all you can do is grunt.”

“Apple thief, get going.”

“Apple thief? I have a name, you know!”

As if you had said nothing at all, Geralt pointed to Jaskier who was stood by his hired steed. Sensing the awkward tension between you, the poor Bard gave a meek wave.

“Alright!” You fumed. “If you will not address anything I have said, at least answer this. What are you, exactly?”

After giving an exasperated sigh, Geralt grabbed hold of you. With little effort, he then set you upon the saddle by force. Hiding a smirk, Jaskier mounted the steed, taking his place behind you. As he took hold of the reigns, you perceived the Bard was on the verge of laughter.

“The absolute nerve of him!” You seethed. “That man is not only a Demon, but a rude one, at that.”

“You know something? Despite being his closest friend, I cannot argue with the last bit.”

Jaskier then snapped the reigns as your little convoy continued down the road.

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#the witcher fanfiction #the witcher fanfic #Geralt x reader #Geralt of rivia x reader #reader x geralt #reader x Geralt of Rivia #thewitcherfanfic #the witcher fandom #Netflix the witcher fan fiction

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bulletproofteacup · 5 years ago

Text

This is the world we live in now

[prompt #86]: “I find peace in the rain” // Zutara Month #25: “Enemies”

Prompts by pxroxide-prinxcesss

[summary]: Aang dies on the day of Sozin’s comet + enemies + Zuko and Katara basically kill everything because they can + zutara (like obviously)

[Warning]: mentions of death, rape, mutilation, basically this isn’t graphic but there are some awful themes...sorry?

***

“I’m so tired of death.” she whispers, kneeling in the mud.

There is nothing for Zuko to say. He has been unable to speak since the Phoenix King cut his tongue out. Even if he could speak, what would he say?

Would he apologize for his part in the fall of the Earth Kingdom?

Would he apologize for failing to teach Aang to redirect lightning?

Instead, he puts a hand on her shoulder. She draws in a deep, shuddering breath. He tightens his grip for a moment. She shakes her head. “I’m not hurt.” she says, even though she’s covered in blood.

Katara stands, brushing his hand off gently. “Thank you, Zuko.”

He nods and they turn back to where Appa is waiting. Momo is chattering, perched on the one horn Appa still has. Azula shattered the other horn when they were escaping the Fire Nation.

It was miracle that they’d been able to escape that day, but Katara had always been something entirely else. Somehow she’d rescued him from the prison--he’d still be mindless with agony after Ozai had torn his tongue out and cauterized the wound with his own fire (he still woke up screaming most nights). She’d been dressed in a dead soldier’s clothes--Ozai had foolishly forgotten that shattering a waterbender’s hands and throwing her to his soldiers did not render her powerless--and somehow, she’d gotten them to Appa.

A year later, they are the only ones left.

It turns out, Zuko muses, that they were more than enough. The dead men lying in every direction would certainly agree.

Azula and Ozai might have razed half of the Earth Kingdom, but Ba Sing Se was still a stronghold protected by the White Lotus. Zuko and Katara made sure they could never take their focus off of the eastern front--let alone march for Ba Sing Se.

Zuko lifts his mask and follows Katara through the ruins of the company they’d decimated. He did not focus on the bodies laying in the mud--some smoldering still and others half frozen. Instead he catches Katara’s eye and signs to her, what next?

“Back to Half Moon bay, I think,” she says, “Dad will be there. He wanted to be there before they sent us to the Fire Nation. I think he’s going to argue against it.”

Zuko snorts. Hakoda had a snow ball’s chance in hell of convincing the White Lotus, or Katara for that matter, not to go to the Fire Nation. Some changed after suffering a loss; Hakoda had given up the fight after Sokka’s death and Katara had given up her mercy.

He signs back, sweep?

She shakes her head. “I haven’t checked for stragglers.”

Sure enough, as soon as the words leave her mouth, a fire ball erupts from behind the ruins of a tent. They’d ambushed this company in the dead of night and nearly a hundred men had died before the other half of the camp had woken. It’s only logical that some men had been smart enough to hide. The fireball is aimed for Katara, but Zuko steps into it’s trajectory and disperses it with his daos.

“Run!” a man shouts, “I’ll hold them off!”

Four soldiers, he counts, five including the man attacking Katara. They look like recruits--too young and untouched by battle. It only takes a few minutes for Katara to dispose of the first. By then, he’s caught up with the fleeing recruits.

It doesn’t take very long for the battlefield to grow quiet once more.

***

That night, they sit across a small campfire.

When they’d first begun, it had been difficult to light a fire without attracting a squad of Fire Nation soldiers. There had been so many littering the eastern country Earth Kingdom, so many little towns underneath the control of the Fire Nation. Now, they went weeks without finding a single solider. This had been their largest company for nearly two months and it had been child’s play to destroy it. It turned out that without scruples, the pair of them were very good at massacre. Katara was very good at it.

But she isn’t bending blood or drowning men in tsunamis at the moment; Katara is simply a water tribe woman fussing over dinner.

This is the only time he can find a glimpse of the girl he fell in love with. Even a year later, even after everything that has happened, she is most herself when she’s trying to care for others. Zuko would love it if it wasn’t aggravating.

“Here,” she says bending food into his dish, “Eat up.”

She’s cooked the duck-pheasant in a stew of potatoes and carrots. The meat is soft enough that it is easy for him to chew, but she’d still made him cut his portion up. He tries not to let it irritate him, tries to imagine what Sokka would say if he could see them now. It would tickle him, he thinks, and Toph would complain about all the motherliness. Aang, of course, would be glaring at him across the fire--at least until Katara turned her motherliness on him.

He nods in thanks and takes his bowl. Her smile is tinged with sadness, as if she’d known exactly what he’d been thinking.

***

Zuko massages her hands before bed.

The ointment smells strongly of ginger and citrus--it’s a Fire Nation blend they picked up in the last town they liberated.

“Thank you,” Katara groans, “I could kiss you.”

He smiles and signs, money. She laughs, “Of course I’ll pay you.”

She winks and leans over to kiss his neck. He can’t help kissing her back, until she’s flushes and glassy eyed and red with beard burn. “Hey,” she complains, “You can’t get lucky until you’re done with my hands.”

He feigns disappointment, but turns back to her hands. “I love you.” she whispers as he continues working the lotion into her hands.

Zuko smiles. He’s gotten very good at communicating without words in the last year; sometimes they don’t even need signals or bits of parchment to communicate. This is how he knows that she knows if he could talk, he’d never stop telling her how much her loved her. But he’s got a job, so he focuses on her hands. Even now, a year later, they still tremble in his grip.

Katara’s healing was on another level altogether, but her fingers had been crushed so badly. She could bend--if anything she could bend better than she had before--but it was difficult to grasp anything, difficult to manipulate or carry or touch anything. They’d spent months re-breaking individual fingers and even now, he helped her stretch and strengthen her fingers. Should could still manage bending and grip a spoon enough to eat, but she would never write again or sew or weave or squeeze his hand back when he held hers.

“Zuko,” she whispers, “Where did you go?”

He turns his attention back to her and smiles. She isn’t fooled, but she doesn’t say anything. Instead, she draws him back into their bedroll and they make love. This is the only time that Zuko feels normal again, when he’s inside her and it doesn’t matter that neither of them are whole anymore. It doesn’t matter that the entire world has fallen apart and their friends are dead. It doesn’t matter that in a few weeks, they’ll leave for the Fire Nation--that they’ll leave to murder the rest of his surviving family.

The only thing that matters is beneath him.

He tries to tell her, with his lips and hands and body, that he loves her more than life itself.

***

In the morning, they climb atop Appa and fly toward Half Moon Bay.

Neither of them look behind them, the ruins of a Fire Nation company lying behind them.

This is the world they live in now.

#lol this was a warm up drabble but two hours later here we are #no beta because we die like men #zutara month #zkmonth #zutara #atla #katara #zuko #tea induced insanity #writing #angst #aang dies au #dark au #yikes this is hella depressing #but also hopeful?#i don't know anymore

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drwcn · 5 years ago

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Think lan zhan and jiang yanli could be friends like wei ying and wen qing are friends? If they had the chance I could see it. Totally imagining lan zhan being bewildered at first, but than actually seeing why wei ying loves his sister so much. Also totally see them silently judging idiot people together and working together to keep wei ying mentally safe. Yanli teaching him how to cook and things about her brother.

YAS！ LWJ and JYL judging people together is Mood. I will die on this hill.

(and bc i hate sleep, i got inspired by your ask and wrote this brain vomit from my btsf!verse that no one asked for, and yet i shall shamelessly impose on the world. It’s a different take on jiang yanli chewing out jin zixun and lan wangji being there and being generally awesome. )

Jin Zixun is causing a scene.

Again.

In broad daylight in the middle of one of Jinlintai’s gardens no less. The Jins had planted lovely peonies, which are all in bloom now. Jiang Yanli had intended to enjoy them for an hour or two, but it seems her morning plans are about to be ruined. What she initially dismissed as a minor nuisance is quickly becoming an irritating fixture in her life. She has half a mind to be rid of this no good Jin cousin for good, and for that matter, she can count a good number of people who would oblige her.

Standing toe to toe with Jin Zixun, Wei Wuxian is shaking with fury from whatever the other man had said. Not that anything even remotely tasteful has ever been produced by Jin Zixun’s mouth. It’s only productive function is eating, as that seems to be the only time he’s quiet and therefore marginally tolerable.

Jiang Yanli already feels a headache looming just from the reminder of his mere existence.

Lan Wangji is the first to notice her. He has one hand wrapped around Wei Ying’s wrist and another around Bichen’s sheath, pressing it across Jin Zixun’s chest to deter him from taking another step closer. Upon seeing her entourage approaching, he steps back and bows respectfully.

“Sect Master Jiang.”

Like wise, Jin Zixun reluctantly gives a half-hearted bow. She ignores him. For now.

Remembering himself, Wei Wuxian flinches and quickly follows suit. “Zongzhu.” He greets her quietly. [zongzhu = sect master]

He doesn’t call her shi-jie anymore, at least not in public.

Since the day she declared herself Sect Master of Yunmeng Jiang, A-Xian has been on his very best behaviour. Every word, every conduct, has strictly been adherent to what is expected of someone in his status and station. But Jiang Yanli could only frown. True, he is her left hand man, her lieutenant, her zuo-hufa, but he is firstly her brother, and she will not stand for him being pushed around by some second rate cultivator just so she could be spared “conflict”.

Turning her head slightly over her shoulder, she makes a small motion for Binghu (冰湖) and Shuangxue (霜雪) to stand down. Dealing with a gnat like Jin Zixun is too menial a task for upstanding cultivators like her personal guards. No, A-Xian is her brother, so Jiang Yanli will deal with this herself, and those who crosses her will only ever be sorry.

“A-Xian, what’s going on?”

“Nothing, zongzhu. A minor disagreement is all.” Clearly lies.

Jiang Yanli looks to Lan Wangji. The younger man does not let go of his betrothed’s wrist, but he does lower his eyes out of deference to her. “Zhangjie, Jin Zixun-gongzi suggested that your brother Jiang-gongzi should be disqualified from tomorrow’s hunt on account of his unorthodox cultivation method. He said that he who could not protect his own golden core has no place amongst cultivators.” [zhangjie = a formal way of saying older sister]

Zhangjie. Rather bold of him to call her that, seeing he and A-Xian are not yet legally wed. But perhaps his choice of words is deliberate, used to remind her that Wei Wuxian is not just her subordinate, but her family. She’d be offended if the gesture isn’t so genuinely endearing. Lan Wangji is a quiet one, but so fiercely protective of Wei Wuxian. Out of this wretched war and all the underhanded maneuvers she’s been forced to take, nothing has pleased her more than this marriage alliance that she and Lan Xichen arranged.

“Lan Zhan…” Wei Wuxian frowns and admonishes him quietly.

“I spoke the truth.”

Jiang Yanli casts Jin Zixun an aloof side glance, then says, “Perhaps I have confused the rules. Clarify for me, Wangji, is spiritual cultivation required for the hunt tomorrow?”

“No.”

“Does cultivation affect the participant’s performance and ability?”

“No. Not if they follow the rules of conduct.”

“The Hunt is a strictly skills based competition is it not?”

“It is.”

“Well then, I think that settles that. A rather simple mistake, Jin Zixun-gongzi, but I wouldn’t fret too much if you didn’t remember. This has been trying times for us all.”Jiang Yanli’s smile is bright but scorching, like the desert sun.

Colour rises in Jin Zixun’s cheeks. He turns up his nose and huffs, “Has Yunmeng Jiang fallen so low that there’s no one left but deviants, servants, and women?”

Wei Wuxian starts towards him, fully intending to throttle the man, but Jiang Yanli calms him with a gentle hand. Unflustered, she turns her full attention to the Jin cousin. The smile on her face does not dim, but her eyes are glacial.

“Deviants, servants, and women. It’s true. We are that. But what can be done? It is unfortunate that there’s not enough reliable cultivators to count on, that even deviants, servants, and women must be forced to take up arms against a tyrant. How tiresome that we must not only fight our own fights, but you cultivators’ fights too.”

“How dare you -” Jin Zixun bristles, which is about as intimidating as an angry ferret, in Jiang Yanli’s considered opinion.

“Shall I remind you when you led your troops into enemy territory last winter in a bullheaded attempt to boast your ego, whose squadron came to your aid when you were trapped, starving in the snow? Whose food fed your men’s bellies, whose blankets and tents warmed your bodies in that storm?” Jiang Yanli does not raise her tone, but holds nothing back. “And who, after you so pitifully grovelled, omitted your incompetence from the report to your uncle and Sect Master.”

“I -” Jin Zixun darkens from red to purple, unable to come up with a single word of refute. Typical.

Jiang Yanli plows on.

“If we deviants, servants, and women are not befitting polite company and the gentlemanly sport of hunting, then you sir, with so little grace and gratitude for the people who saved your life and the lives of your kinsmen, are not fit to even stand in our presence.” She takes a step closer, forcing him back. “You’re right. I am a woman, but Wei Wuxian was raised along side myself and Jiang Cheng, as close to us as flesh and blood. That you have called him a servant is untrue and a grave offence, which I will not accept. So remembering that, Jin Zixun-gongzi, you will apologize to my brother, Yunmeng Jiang’s zuo-hufa Wei Wuxian. Immediately.”

It is Jin Zixun’s turn to shake, too humiliated and furious to say a thing. It’s clear that he’d rather the ground swallow him than apologize, but as servants and disciples start to crowd around them, whispering and pointing, it seems he has no choice. Jiang Yanli is still a sect master, and Wei Wuxian is a much respected hero.

“Apologies, Wei-gongzi.”

“What’s going on here?” Behind Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian, Jin Zixuan and Qin Su can be seen making their way towards them from the other end of the lang. The latter of the two dips in a proper courtesy of a gentlewoman, but the former only manages an awkward cultivator’s bow without meeting Jiang Yanli’s eyes.

“Nothing that needs to worry you, Jin-gongzi. Just a small misunderstanding, all cleared up now. Is that not so, Zixun-gongzi, Wangji, A-Xian?”

“Barely a tiff.” Lan Zhan lies with a straight face. Wei Ying says nothing.

Jin Zixun forces himself to nod once.

Jiang Yanli quickly forgets that such a person ever existed. Stepping up to the two that just joined them, she offers her usual sweet smile. “I don’t believe I’ve had the opportunity to congratulate you both on your upcoming nuptials. Such wonderful news! Qin-meimei, Madam Jin has asked me to consult on the design of your fengguan, I hope we shall see more of each other so I can make better judgement of your preferences.”

Qin Su blushes. “Jiang-jiejie - eh - Jiang-zongzhu, you tease me! There’s been so much to do lately, we’ve not had time to send out the invites. I - Congratulations to your family too, Hanguang-jun, Wei-gongzi.”

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian return her well wishes politely, though somewhat with a stiff back. Jiang Yanli internally frowns, wondering perhaps things aren’t going as well she is led to believe… A matter she needs to think on later.

“Well, I must be off now. I wish I had the endurance of a cultivator, but alas the summer heat is somewhat getting to me. Do enjoy the peonies though, Qin-meimei, Jin-gongzi, they are lovely this year. Wangji, A-Xian, come.”

Jiang Yanli leaves the garden at a leisurely pace, her head held up high, followed by her brothers and her entourage. As she turns at the round archway, she spares a discreet glance towards Jin Guangshan’s son and his future bride, a pairs of unfortunate siblings trying to fit into each other’s lives and unknowingly heading towards a disaster.

She decides to let that one stew a little longer. For now no real damage is done - Jin Zixuan is far to awkward even if Qin Su finds him handsome. The marriage won’t go through; she’s not so cruel that she will actually let that runaway carriage go off the proverbial cliff. However, the key to every offensive strike is timing, and now is not the time to reveal the truth to them. As long as Madam Qin is medically incapacitated, the secret holds, and she will stay that way for a while yet. Jiang Yanli muses that she rather likes the landscape now the way it is, and longs to see the day Jin Guangshan and Qin Cangye gets what’s coming to them.

1. zongzhu = sect master2. zuo-hufa = the “zuo - left” hand man of the sect master. Their function is to serve and protect the sect master, as the word hufa literally means protector. 3. Binghu (冰湖) & Shuangxue (霜雪) - YJL’s bodyguards. Binghu means ice, lake, Shuangxue means frost, snow. 4. zhangjie = a formal way of saying older sister.5. lang = A long, belt-like structure, Lang, the covered corridor is a roofed passage usually with low railings and long side benches. 6. meimei = younger sister. jiejie = older sister. When used in conjunction with last names, this is a way for women who are familiar with each other to address each other. I7. fengguan 凤冠 = it’s the term for the headpiece that brides wear on their wedding day.

#cql #the untamed #jiang yanli #dark!jiang yanli #sect leader jiang yanli #wangxian #btsf #engaged!wangxian #arranged marriage wangxian #i have no idea why the read more is malfunctioning and making this post so long #again #corie replies #corie fics

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howemancing · 4 years ago

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WIP Wednesday

I’m going to pretend @dreadfutures tagged me because she said it was open. I started a Flufy Modern AU one shot version of my main OC Elspeth Cousland and Nathaniel Howe which has been a ton of fun to play in. Problem is, I need to work on the pacing, because my main pair just spend the entire time teasing each other. One day I’ll come back and turn this into a fully fledged fic. I’ve never posted stories directly to tumblr before so this is about to be an adventure in HTML -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Soldering pedals was one of Elsa’s great joys in life. It was simple, straightforward, necessary, and immediately rewarding. Working on music could be richly satisfying in its own right, of course, but sometimes she just wanted a project with a clear goal and obvious outcome. And as a bonus, she could listen to whatever tracks she or her collaborators had made, with half a mind to future tweaks even as she worked.

Shadow suddenly perked up at her feet, a sure sign that Delilah was home, before turning into a barking dancing ball of energy as she raced towards the doorway. Her mutt was just barely well trained enough not to bump her owner while she was working, but it made her nervous all the same.

“Hey, ‘Lilah, because I know you love me, would you be willing to take the monster out while you’re still bundled up?” she called out in amusement. “I’m just in shorts and a sweater over here.” She didn’t hear a response, but her faithful mutt’s barking began to get more muted, even through her headphones.

She let herself get caught up in her work once more, finishing the last few wires that needed attaching. Elsa Cousland stood, stretching energy into stiff limbs, wandering over to their kitchen to check on the stewing cordero al vino. Soon enough, she heard the barking of Shadow in the hallway, apparently particularly excitable tonight as she returned. Her faithful mutt didn’t usually stay hyper this long when Delilah came home.

Keys jingled in the doorway, letting in the hyperactive pup, but Elsa’s attention was caught up blowing on the broth, eager to sample if it was coming along alright. “Geez, Lilah, do you have bacon in your pocket or something?”

“Heard a number of odd pick up lines before, but that one’s rather new,” a different, comforting voice graveled at her. Elsa started in surprise. It can’t be, she thought, even as she whirled. Nathaniel Howe was leaning in the doorway. Of course there was a faint smirk on his face, helmet in hand, and he would choose to look quite so dashing in his snow dusted leather coat. “But yes, I am happy to see you.”

“NATE!” she breathlessly enthused, dropping the spoon and launching herself at the man.

He grinned, catching her into a tight hug, wonderful chuckles rumbling through his chest. Despite the cold he brought in, warmth of a different kind seared through her.

“Hey, Elsa,” he breathed, his cologne such a wonderful, familiar scent. “Miss me?”

“You can’t possibly need to ask, you dork,” she murmured back, voice muffled by his chest. She pulled back to beam up at him, trying to ignore how easily he made her heart flip. Piercing grey eyes crinkled at her, peering past that wonderful aquiline nose. A faint blush from winter’s cold colored his cheeks, all while a smile danced across his lips. His sharp chin sporting that same soul patch she remembered so well.

Nathaniel Howe, back after over a year of international travel. Smiling at her, daring to act even a fraction as happy to see her as she was him.

She shoved down her pounding heart with firm internal rebuke. She didn’t have a crush on the man anymore, really. Clearly this was just the affection of having missed a man she cared dearly for - as a friend! Her energy would settle soon enough.

Around their feet, her mutt danced, still bouncing ecstatically, and one particularly affectionate bump nearly knocked Elsa over if Nathaniel hadn’t tightened his hug and righted her. “Shadow, couch,” she ordered with exasperation, and obediently the dog quieted, following her owner’s command. Ponderously she climbed on, mournfully huffing as she curled up on the cushion. Large, sad puppy eyes demanded an explanation for such a betrayal, but her supposedly morose demeanor was rather cut by a wagging tail steadily thumping on the cushions.

“It’s so wonderful to see you,” Elsa repeated warmly to Nate. “I missed you so much. I can’t believe you’re here! Have you had dinner? Can you stay? I’m making cordero al vino. Ori’s recipe.”

“It smells amazing, but I don’t want to trouble you,” Nathaniel demurred.

“Doctor Nathaniel Howe! Don’t be ridiculous, do you see the size of that pot? Besides, I will not be denied the chance to play host, or the pleasure of your company,” she growled, playfully thumping him in the chest.

“I am still not used to that title,” he mused, shaking his head, eyes crinkling with amusement. She giggled. “I’ll have to help you get used to it then, Dr. Howe. Indiana Jones wannabe-”

“Great, good. Years in the field and that’s never gotten old.”

“Professional artifact thief.”

“I am not a thief, I do nothing of the sort! I don’t even - I work in Greece, I’m mostly just surveying, and you - ah. You know this, of course you know this, and you’re winding me up.” Nathaniel sighed, rubbing his nose and trying not to smirk. “Why am I such an easy mark for you?”

Her brown eyes sparkled with humorous delight, grin bursting past all efforts to control it. “I mean, that goes both ways and you know it,” she pointed out, and he had to smirk, dipping his head in concession. “Please, settle in, make yourself at home. I should warn you, I’m likely to strongly insist you stay the night.”

“Oh?”

She gestured out the window. “Look at the weather. Did you really not know a major winter storm was coming? I don’t even want Delilah taking public in this, though I imagine she’s thinking the same. Her decision, in the end.”

He hesitated, frame stilling as he shed his coat. “Oh. Just you and me, then?”

Nerves flashed through her. She kept her tone light, offhand. “Is that a problem? Need me to invite other friends?”

“Of course not, but I feel bad for interrupting your, ah, special date night. And I don’t mean to force you to entertain me.”

She rolled her eyes, exasperated, worries settled. “Nathaniel. It’s fine. I’d really prefer you didn’t try and take your bike in the storm that’s about to hit, but I’ll not pressure you. If you can put up with a slightly more humble abode than you’re used to, oh mighty Doctor Nathaniel-”

“-I feel as though you vastly overestimate the lifestyle of a non medical doctor.”

“-we’d be more than happy to have you stay. Especially for safety’s sake. If you can’t fit on the couch, you can stay in my bed.” He raised an eyebrow at her and she flushed, quickly continuing as if nothing were wrong. “Instead of me! I can sleep out here, I’ve spent more than one night on this couch.”

He smiled faintly, though his eyes looked distant. “I’m sure both you and Delilah have.”

“If it weighs on the scale, I’d like to pester you with a thousand questions as your rent for the night. Plus, you’ll have to give that shameless flirt - the one with a tail - all the attention she craves.”

Nathaniel grinned, piercing grey eyes sparkling and flipping her stomach in knots. “Such a price. Are you trying to threaten me with a good time? You know I’d pay it a dozen times over.” Her heart pounded within her, but she shoved that down. Nathaniel loved dogs. “But wouldn’t I just be in your way?”

“Nate, don’t joke like that. I haven’t seen you in forever!”

“A year and a half!” She huffed at him, and he quickly held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I just thought you’d rather - well. I appreciate the offer. Hm.” He checked out the window, noticing the snow flakes getting thicker. “Maybe I will take you up on it, at least for tonight. Mind if I go down and cover my bike, then?”

“Excellent! Good choice,” she praised, and his eyes crinkled in amusement. “And go for it. Dinner should be ready in another ten minute or so.”

“I look forward to it. And the promised thousand questions,” he added with a faint smirk, heading out.

Elsa watched him go, double checking on the lamb with sudden nerves, buzzing with excitement that wasn’t suspicious. It was normal to be this happy to see an old friend. Those butterflies were just clearly the natural excitement of being surprised. But the growing snow worried her, so she found her phone to make sure her roommate wasn’t enroute, and realized she’d missed several texts from Delilah

Nathaniel’s back in down, you don’t mind if I invite him to dinner, right?

Hey

Check your damn phone buttface. He’s on his way.

Also I’m going to stay at Albert’s tonight. It’s much closer and work held me up. If you end up fucking my brother, please don’t tell me.

I lied, please tell me

No don’t.

Look tell me but I don’t want details. I just want to know it happened finally.

Exasperated, she rolled her eyes, and set about responding.

Fucks sake, I’m sorry! I was working on soldering, alright? It’s fine, your brother’s here safely, happy to see him and entertain. He’s going to stay the night

No I’m not gonna sleep with him. Have to get him drunk first so he’ll even want to and that makes the whole thing too bleh for me

Can’t believe you abandoned me on date night, bitch

I’m kidding. Glad you’re staying with Albert but duh. Even without snow, when was the last time you spent the night here? Tell them I said hi

Soon enough, Nathaniel returned, and was promptly attacked by Shadow. He pretended at irritation, but a smirking grin kept fighting against his scowl even as she twined around his legs and forced him to sit with her on the couch.

Elsa smiled, watching him rubbing Shadow’s belly to her obvious delight, letting him have a moment of calm. Soon enough, though, he looked up, raising an eyebrow. “So quiet all of a sudden, should I be nervous? I believe you threatened me with a thousand questions.”

“Just giving you a moment to settle in!” she defended solicitously.

A faint half smirk traced his lips. “Consider me settled.”

It was like a floodgate releasing. “How’s Greece? Are you still doing GIS? Were you able to start any digs, discover any good sites, and find any exciting sherds? Meet any interesting new people?”

Nathaniel chuckled, and his eyes briefly went unfocused, clearly trying to keep track of each of her questions. “Rapid fire questions get rapid fire answers. Greece is good, surveying is excellent, I think we've identified a very interesting new site, specifically because yes, we found a number of interesting sherds. And no, nobody particularly interesting we haven’t already emailed about.” He shook his head, bemused. “This isn’t even your kind of field, and you’re not my family, forced to pretend. How do you remember this much? Even Delilah glazes over whenever I try to explain it.”

“Please, you underestimate how interesting you make things. Besides, ‘Lilah always remembers, she’s just trying to yank your soul patch. Which I note you still have, and so I’ve now lost a bet with her.”

Self consciously, Nathaniel stroked it. “I think it looks good.”

“It does,” she soothed with a teasing grin. “I just didn’t think those were easy to maintain. Surprised you can keep up such careful grooming in the field.”

“Some things are worth the effort. Besides, you’re one to talk! You’re here in the middle of a city, and yet your hair’s getting so long,” he retorted. “When’s the last time you got a haircut?”

She mockingly gasped theatrically, tossing her long auburn hair. She hoped it would cascade beautifully but realistically knew she was just getting a floofy mess and shedding behind her. “Hey, I get it trimmed regularly. Besides, don’t you mock my hair, it’s my only good feature, Nate!” she baited him, raising a teasing eyebrow.

“That’s not even slightly true,” he protested.

“How very dare you, good sir. I can’t believe you just called my hair ugly.”

“I did nothing of the sort.”

“I work so hard on it, too!”

“Your hair is beautiful, and so is-”

Theatrically she pressed a hand to her forehead, sighing dramatically. “And now Nathaniel Howe, Expert P-H-D, just called it ugly. Alas! I’ve disappointed my dear Delilah’s brother. Now she’ll hate me too. Curse my miserable existence! I suppose there’s no help for it, I’ll just have to shave it all off.”

Nathaniel was outright laughing by the time her performative and overwrought display was done. “So dramatic. You are such a ridiculous ham,” he teased her. “You would never do such a thing. You know your hair is beautiful.”

She grinned at him, joy bursting out of her too much to be contained. “Can’t help the drama. I’m too excited, it’s hard to play at calm.” She performatively covered her mouth, then, and by the time she removed her hand, her smile was slightly better controlled, though her twinkling eyes betrayed her still. “Sorry, I promise I’ll try to settle down again. This is what you get for surprising me, Nate. My favorite - one of my favorite people is back in town, I’m a little eager!”

He settled slightly, smiling warmly at her, grey eyes dancing with light that made her heart flip within her. “Favorite? Please. Don’t exaggerate, you heartbreaker,” he teased, and as she geared up to protest, he continued, eyes softer, careful smile dancing on his features. “I missed you too, Elsa. It’s - it’s really good to see you again, energy and all. Especially that, actually. I loved your emails but they always lack a little something compared to seeing you face to face.”

She smiled warmly back, trying not to flush. “I know what you mean,” she agreed. “I’m so glad you could come back early. How long are you back this time?”

“Likely a couple years, actually. We’ve all but got the permit to dig in Greece so now it’s just applying for grants for awhile until we have enough to fund an actual dig. I’m probably going to be staying near the university, working on data analysis and grant and paper writing.”

Elsa tried not to let her tremor of excitement show. Cool as a cucumber. Casual. Not at all a silly, lovesick girl. Because it would be ridiculous. She couldn’t actually be still crushing on a man she should have the good sense to get over by now.

But.

A part of her couldn’t help but note this would be the first time in years they’d be local and single for an appreciable time frame. Most of Nathaniel’s graduate career had been intercut with international travel spanning for months on end, often rarely spending more than a season in the country. Last time he was in town for 6 consecutive months, she’d been dating Sebastian, and before that, he’d had some long distance relationship with someone or other. Alvina? Elvira? Damn, she probably shouldn’t be forgetting that.

Nerves would betray her, so she diverted to practical matters. “Oh? That’s wonderful to hear. Where will you be staying?”

“Mostly working out of the university, so I’ll probably settle in with father while I look for a place around here.”

Elsa made a face even as she poured herself a glass of wine. “You really want to live with your father? I thought you didn’t get along with him either.”

Nathaniel sighed, shrugging. “Well, I didn’t exactly have an alternative set up. It’s just to tide me over until I can get an apartment.”

“Stay here!” she insisted. “We can put you up for however long it takes to find a place.”

“That’s a kind offer, but I’m not sure Delilah would appreciate it.”

“‘Lilah would much rather you stay here than with your father, trust me,” Elsa pressed, taking a seat on the couch with him. “Double check with her if you prefer, but I’ll put money down I’m right.”

“I’ll think about it,” Nathaniel demurred. “I’d rather not, ah. Be in either of your way, though. Wouldn’t it be awkward to have the older brother around, looming over you two?”

What a strange way to phrase things. But Nathaniel tended to be more careful in his word choice than others, and Elsa knew she’d probably thrown him off already with her energy and offer. “Not at all. I intend to be shameless regardless of your presence. We can have late night slumber parties!” she insisted cheerfully.

Nathaniel’s face flushed slightly, then, though it was hard to tell why. Nathaniel was a flirt himself, and quite smooth about it, so the idea that he was flustered from her flirtations was hard to buy. But then, it was possible she was coming across stronger than she realized. Best to back off, then. “Well, it’s your choice, but offer’s on the table.”

“I’ll talk with Delilah.”

#Howesland #f!cousland x nathaniel howe #Nathaniel Howe #Modern AU #Fanfiction #wip

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sanders-sides-fics · 5 years ago

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In My Dreams: Chapter Thirteen

Warnings: Injury, violence, minor character death, murder attempts, fight scenes

Masterlist

Word Count: 3065

The castle was bustling with servants finishing last minute preparations for Roman's arrival. Virgil watched as the gardeners checked and triple checked the flower beds by the gates to make sure they were weeded properly.

Virgil knew from growing up in Sanders that this was a big deal. Picais hadn't hosted a royal visitor in many years, staying quiet and keeping out others to protect what remained of the royal family as the castle waited for Remy to become of age to ascend to the throne. Any royal visit was important, and the first one in at least twelve years? Undoubtedly important and nerve-racking for servants.

“Pardon me, Prince Virgilius,” a gardener gave him a small bow after nearly running into him.

“It’s no problem,” he said softly. “The flowers look wonderful.”

“Thank you, my prince!”

Virgil smiled, “You’re welcome.”

The gardener hurried off to put away his tools, and Virgil turned his attention back to the gates. He stood with Logan as Remy paced in front of them, pulling at his sleeves and fixing his attire.

“It’s just Roman,” Virgil reminded him.

“One would think you’d be the nervous one and not me. Oh, to be in sweet sweet denial of one’s feelings,” Remy mused, pausing his pace to look at his younger brother. He stepped forward and adjusted the crown on Virgil’s head, offering in explanation, “It was crooked.”

Virgil laughed quietly and reached up to fix Remy’s crown and hair, “So was yours, Remy. Even so, I don’t believe it’ll matter if my crown is crooked or not. Not once my dad gets the chance to swing me around.”

Remy smirked at that, “No long distance lover embracing you in his arms and dipping you down for a first kiss?”

Virgil blushed and swatted his brother away. Remy laughed and backed off. Virgil was relieved he could momentarily help with the nerves that Remy was feeling. His brother had been on edge all morning.

Remy didn’t know that Virgil did feel nearly as nervous as him, even with the jesting. It was true that in moments he would see Roman and Dad again. Specifically, he would see Roman. Roman. His best friend. His… crush. And he’d have to address how he was feeling, one way or another.

“Remington, I can see the carriage approaching,” Logan told him quietly.

Remy looked off and spotted the carriage in the distance, accompanied by a group of guards on horses. Remy stood beside Virgil and straightened out his posture.

“Ready?” Remy asked.

“As I’ll ever be,” Virgil told him.

Remy snorted, “Well, just let me know if you’re going to hide under the covers until that sunshine boy goes away.”

The castle gates opened, and the carriage entered the walls, slowing down as it approached the trio before coming to a stop. The coachman descended from the front and opened the carriage doors for the passengers inside.

Roman stepped down from the carriage. Virgil watched how his friend moved, looking for a sign that Roman had lied about his recovery, just in case. He trusted Roman would not but did not wish to take chances with the health of his friend.

The other prince was thinner than he had been when Virgil left for Picais, but that could easily be written off as the price of bedrest and loss of muscles. His auburn hair was shorter too, and Virgil knew he had it freshly cut before his journey. His complexion was paler but not so pale as to hint at a lack of bouts outdoors.

Virgil smiled at the conclusion that Roman had, in fact, recovered from his injuries in their time apart.

“Virgil!” Roman exclaimed, bouncing over to greet the royals. “Hello, King Remington!”

“Hello, Prince Roman,” Remy offered.

The two exchanged a small bit of talk about Roman’s journey that Virgil didn’t pay attention to. He watched as Dad stepped down from the carriage, a bit stiff from the journey. Virgil stepped aside to go to his dad and help him over.

As he walked over, he met eyes with Dad, and Dad’s eyes lit up like polished emeralds.

“Virgil,” he smiled. “Don’t mind me, son, just my old bones sore from the journey.”

Virgil hugged his dad when he was before him, burying his face in Dad’s shoulder. Dad hugged him back tightly, placing a kiss on Virgil’s temple.

“I missed you too,” Dad said quietly.

Virgil nodded his head without looking up, “I’m sorry I didn’t write to you enough.”

“It’s okay, I bet you’ve been pretty busy settling in over here.”

Virgil looked up at his dad and smiled, “Just a bit. Come on, Remy has a feast planned tonight to welcome the two of you as our guests.”

As the nobles started to arrive for the feast, Roman, seated at the table with the others, leaned over to talk to Virgil, “We didn’t really get the chance to talk earlier, but it’s good to see you. The crown suits you.”

Virgil smiled, “It’s nice being able to talk to you again, sans the weeks of wait. And thank you, it was my dad’s, King Emile’s.”

Roman nodded in agreement, “It’s much better to hear your words in person, I certainly can agree.”

Virgil heard Remy quietly snort on his other side and gently kicked his brother’s leg under the table. Virgil talked with Roman throughout the dinner, catching each other up on what had not fit into their letters over the passing weeks.

“I could show you the library later, to get away from that,” Virgil pointed to Logan and Dad who were seated on the other side of Remy.

Roman gasped then laughed and looked at the two older men talking while they ate dinner. He didn’t notice anything all that strange, “What, can’t handle your dad swapping baby Virgil stories with Logan?”

“No, no, that’s definitely flirting,�� Virgil shivered.

Roman shrugged, “Maybe.”

“Well, what would you do if King Thomas was flirting?”

Roman stared at Virgil, mortified, “No.”

Virgil chuckled at his friend’s horror and ate some of the stew remaining in his bowl. He was glad he could get Roman to understand what he was feeling. And knew that when the dining halls cleared out for the ballroom, the two would be going off to the library to hide for the night.

Before too long, Virgil was waving goodbye to his brother. He knew they weren’t supposed to be sneaking off away from Logan, but he truly believed that he and Roman could handle the situation if danger arose.

Perhaps he was allowing himself to relax too much. He knew there was a chance of that, however he wanted the opportunity to be alone with Roman for just a few minutes before Logan realized and came looking for them.

Virgil tugged Roman down the hall, being cautious enough to observe their surroundings, just in case. It was quiet, but he didn’t think it was suspiciously quiet. Everyone was at the banquet, welcoming the royal guests and celebrating the arrival, after all. Guards roamed the halls, giving them quick nods before leaving to do their rounds. Nothing seemed odd by the time they reached the library. Virgil opened the door and quietly slipped inside.

“It’s cold in here,” Roman said quietly.

Virgil frowned, noting the chill as well. He shivered slightly, hugging himself and rubbing his arms up and down for warmth. The library had never been this cold at night when he visited. Tonight, he could see his breath when he breathed out. Virgil could hear a quiet voice in the distance and pulled Roman to hide behind the desk near the entrance.

Mavis walked out from the library’s shelves, shawl hanging loosely around her. She wandered closer, closer, dress dancing freely around her, reveling in the cold with a flow that suggested familiarity.

“Mistress, we will soon have our vengeance on those who’ve wronged you. The King who felled you is not here, but his son, the wretched knight, is. He can be gone by morning.”

Virgil’s eyes widened in disbelief, voice caught in his throat. Mavis was the spy within the castle walls? Mavis? The kind old librarian that let him stay in the library whenever he needed a break? He wouldn’t believe it was true if he hadn’t heard her talking just now. He gripped Roman’s wrist, heart starting to race, to make sure he knew where the prince was, so that Roman did not go charging to be the hero.

“We need to get out of here.” Roman’s voice startled him, and Virgil’s grip tightened, almost knuckle-white and cutting off Roman’s circulation. “Get Logan and the guards,” Roman told him quietly, voice grim.

Virgil nodded stiffly in agreement, shoulders tense. They couldn’t move until the librarian moved again, two pairs of eyes watching raptly.

Mavis continued walking towards the desk, moving slowly in her old age. “I just need to get my poisons, Mistress. Just the same as the ones that handled the traitor Ashdown. You’ll see.”

Virgil looked around and saw the vial sitting on the top of the desk. He took a deep breath, making a rash decision, and shot out of hiding to confront her, knowing that she would discover them either way.

“You will do no such thing, Mavis.”

Mavis spun around, anger evident on her face at being interrupted. Then the old woman’s expression turned wicked. She sneered at the prince and raised her hands, room chilling further. Virgil shuddered at the temperature, hugging himself again and then noticed with alarm the frost growing on his garments.

Mavis focused on him and breathed out, a swarm of snow starting within the library. “I can’t have you ruining this for me, dear. You had your chance to join the Mistress.”

Without warning, she summoned large icicles in the air and sent them flying at Virgil. Virgil threw up his arms to deflect them, sending them flying around the library. Each icicle crashed and shattered when they collided with the library’s stone walls.

Mavis cackled, summoning more of the icicles. Her arms raised, a malicious grin on her face, icicle after icicle launched at Virgil. His heart was a horse racing towards the finish line, the magical exhaustion threatening him. He gritted his teeth, pushing himself to try and throw back the icicles at Mavis.

“Roman, run!” Virgil shouted when one distracted her.

Roman rolled out from his position, dodging his own icicle attack, and ran to the library doors. He had to do something, needed to do something, to not just escape like a coward, to let Virgil fight Mavis by himself, to warn the rest of the castle.

Mavis switched her aim to Roman, a wicked gleam in her eyes at the new target painted, but Virgil shot forward. He launched his body at her, pushed her to break her focus on Roman and back to him instead, giving Roman the chance to escape out the room.

“You aren’t going to hurt him!”

The annoyance flickered on her face at losing her prey before settling into a vengeful sneer. “Then I suppose I will settle for you, boy!”

Mavis latched onto Virgil, and her touch burned.

He shouted in pain and looked down at his wrists, seeing them turn blue with cold as ice spread up his arms. He kicked at her, feet swinging in her hold, but her grip remained ironclad. The cold crept up his arms, forming an icy prison around his hands. Fear screamed in his head, only barely being beaten back by the pain in his hands.

“Virgil!” Roman shouted, running back into the room with a sword in his hands.

Roman ran, swinging his sword at Mavis, and she rolled her eyes. She let go of one of Virgil’s wrists, swatting at Roman like a fly. He was knocked back, hitting a bookcase with a grunt. Another hand wave and the ground cracked open, and a large wall of ice sprouted up, a blockade of winter between the two princes.

Virgil tried to move his freed arm desperately, to free it from its wintery grip, but it remained encased in ice. Mavis grabbed the free wrist again and hauled him away, further into the library. Virgil screamed as his hands numbed, pulling and struggling, wanting to get away.

Roman swung the sword at the ice barricade, again and again, hacking at it in an attempt to get through to help Virgil. He was barely chipping at it, dread filling him as he saw Virgil being dragged further and further away.

Virgil looked back at him and then around the library desperately, looking for a way to get out of his situation. Panic laced up his whole body as Mavis tugged at him. He stomped down on the floor, dragging his feet and trying to resist the old woman’s pull.

He saw something flicker, and his memory ran back to his baba’s notes. Shadows. Something about shadows. He remembered reading about his ability to manipulate them, but even in the journals, the skill was underdeveloped. But he still had to try, unable to use his hands for any magic.

He focused on Mavis’ shadow as she pulled him along, trying to imagine it letting his shadow go. Her shadow twitched, and he felt Mavis’ grip loosen slightly. A thrill shot through his spine, letting the success motivate him. He focused harder and imagined the scenario in more detail. The shadow’s hands falling away from his shadow, his shadow no longer being pulled along with frozen hands.

He focused and focused and focused until he realized he was no longer moving, that Mavis’ shadow had let go. He looked up to see Mavis’ rage, face gaunt and wholly vexed, stopped in one position because of her shadow. And his hands were freed, relief returning as he turned around to run. He ran back to the ice wall as Roman finally broke a hole through it.

“Virgil, come on!” Roman reached through for him.

Virgil tried to raise his arms, heavy like they were turned to lead and all he could feel was coldcoldcold. His arms swung uselessly at his side, and he didn’t know whether to scream or cry in frustration.

Roman, realizing Virgil’s dilemma, grabbed one of Virgil’s icy hands and heaved him through the hole in the ice wall, barely able to pull him out. With a sword in one hand and Virgil’s in the other, Roman took off running out of the library, Mavis howling behind them.

Roman ran them back to the ballroom, bursting into the room and not stopping until they were before Logan. The crowds of nobles stopped in shock, at the sight of their injured prince and Roman wielding a sword.

“It was Mavis,” Roman panted, overexerted. He handed over the still shivering Virgil into Remy’s shocked arms. Logan straightened, listening intently. “She was the one working for the Witch. I’m going back, but Virgil needs his hands thawed out. Heal him.”

“Roma-”

A glacier of ice burst through the doors, and the guards scrambled to stand before it, fortifying their ranks around the nobility. On top of the glacier stood Mavis, a wicked snow queen bulldozing through the room. Roman darted forward and started to scale the glacier, one handed, as Mavis rained ice upon him to knock him off. The pieces of ice nicked his skin, drawing blood and getting into his eyes. weariness wanted to settle into his bones but he pushed himself further, harder, dodging most of the attacks, until he was at the top.

He held his sword with both hands, feet spread shoulder wide for balance. Rivulets of blood from the ice dripped down his face. His heart pounded in his chest, a rabbit wanting to escape. A snarl was on his lips as he gauged the old woman in front of her, waiting to make a move.

Mavis held out her hand, a blue aura surrounding it, and a sword made of ice materialized out of the air. She ran at the prince, sword ready to strike him. He expertly dodged her attack and swung his own sword at her, his sword stayed by Mavis’s own.

Their swords clashed again and again. There was something wild in Mavis’ eyes, a glint of angered frustration. She roared, charging with a reckless swing, hand loose on her sword. Spotting the opening, Roman knocked her sword out of her hand, kicking her chest, hearing something crack, and knocking her down. He kicked her sword away, it dissolving as Mavis hunched in on herself.

Mavis crawled back, strength diminishing as wisps of blue flickered, trying to form something but unable. There was no escape, and Roman had the faux witch backed against the edge of the glacier, the tip of his sword under her chin. He smirked, ready to deliver the final blow.

“You’d kill an old woman?” Mavis said, blood stained on her teeth, a last ditch attempt.

Roman raised a brow, sneering, “We both know you’re much more than that.”

He raised his sword and struck her in the chest. When he pulled his sword back, she fell lifelessly over the edge of the glacier. The glacier shook and began to crumble, large chunks falling off and crashing onto the ballroom floor. The nobles screamed, either in fear for themselves or for Roman. Roman hurried and clambered down as fast as he could to avoid falling from such a height.

He raced back to Virgil, eager to get back to his side. Virgil’s hands were being wrapped in cloth now that the ice had melted away, the blue tint making Roman want to wince in shared pain and commiseration. The other prince gently pushed his brother away before he launched himself at Roman. Roman caught Virgil in his arms, laughing and hiding a groan of pain.

“What’s this about?” Roman asked when he released Virgil.

Virgil rolled his eyes, cupping Roman’s cheek with a fond smile, “I was trying to kiss you, you idiot hero.”

“Well then, let me help you with that,” Roman smirked before he leaned down and pressed his lips to Virgil’s, relief radiating off of both of them as they melted into each other’s embrace. The feeling of the cold gone and replaced by the warmth of each other.

#ts-storytime 2020 submission #Virgil Sanders #Roman Sanders #Prinxiety #Sanders Sides #Remy Sanders #Logan Sanders #Patton Sanders #Fantasy #A Fanciful Dream #In My Dreams

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hereyougopeanutbutter · 4 years ago

Text

Winners

Pony stays in the other section of the building. She said it was a different Panda division but when I asked her what it looked like she texted back ‘worktables with beds, there are about 24 others and no one talks’

The same as in my section. There are 20 of us. And about 50 writing tables. I’m in the front on the left, close to the door. The walls are covered with brown wooden panels dating back to the previous century I believe, in the corner long rectangle speakers and on the front wall two ShunSha LED screens which tell us the weather and switch to the Panda statement, our commitment to Panda and the recognition we will get if we get through. I turn my eyes away. I better focus on what I need to do.

In the morning, they serve breakfast on the side of the room, on large tables. White and brown bread with marmalade, peanut butter, and chocolate sprinkles with butter on shelves. Slices of cheese and bacon in plastic containers. Same at noon. For supper, big pans of stew are rolled in, with whitebread and spoons.

We are not allowed to go to the sleeping section after 8.30 am. In the evenings, everybody crashes on their beds, grabs their cell phones, some bottles of alcohol or other drinks, some smoke cigarettes from the windows in the toilets. I don’t pay attention to them, most of the time I’m in bed right after 8 pm.

In the morning I eat my sandwich, I like the marmalade and I eat a sandwich while I prepare a peanut butter and gelly one for while I’m working. It’s not allowed but they let me. I also keep my phone with me while working.

“Reached 40,000” Pony texted, “revision going well?”

“Edited up to six chapters, think I’m going to make it.”

“Good. Good. Think of you, go go go Pigtails, love you”

“Need help?”

But Ponytail doesn’t answer. 40,000 words and only 3 more weeks to go.

In the morning the fear that filled my heart the evening before comes up almost instantly when I wake up. I dreamt about her, how we were swimming in the roaring waters of the Mississippi. “M-I-S-S-I-S-S-P-P-I,” she said as water gulped in her mouth. “Pony, you need to swim, cut the crap” I shouted. “M-I-S-S…” but she didn’t get any further, the part of the river was loud and I had a hard time pulling her up above the water and keeping alive myself.

My little sister, Justine, the tiny baby born when I was four. Her body frame stayed small and frail. When she was young she started calling me Pigtails instead of Amanda. I liked pigtails in my hair. Tamara became Pinky, Tamara loved her pink leggings. She asked Justine how we should call her and Justine fluttered the peaking hair on her head. Mom had tried to created ponytails on either side of her head. “Ponytails!” And from that moment on we were there, ponytails, pigtails and pinky, later Pony, Pig and Pinky.

“You’ll get it done?” I text. The ward comes in slamming the bell and just to avoid the noise everybody walks to their working tables to start up their word processors, ugly old Dynamics. Mine hums during the day, I listen to it as the clicking of my keys moves along.

“Get started sunshines, poop out the books and go for the million!” the ward shouted as loud as he could over the bell. “People are anxious for your books, com’on, we’re halfway there, three more weeks!”

My phone buzzes “I might”.

On the wall the screen turns on, bright white, two of them showing one image, the table with the chair, cut in half by the black plastic borders of the SunShu. But we know. Fear sets in the group, we all look around and count. We are still with 20. It must be from the other group. I look at my phone but the ward is still close and he might see me. My fingers slowly tick on the screen ‘y-o-u 0-k-a-y?’ and press send. Pony sends back a ‘y’

The Panda declaration about how we signed up for writing the next bestseller comes up. How we committed to a good sellable story and how the first draft was due in 6 weeks with at least 100,000 words. Panda would help us. Panda guarantees sales of 50,000 copies to all Panda members around the world and oh just so you know Panda has 31,000 active daily accounts. Daily

“We will change your life” it then said. One sentence. “And you agreed we could have it if you fail”

I don’t recognize the person. She fights the two men who hold her upper arms, we hear ‘No, no!’ but the men guide her to a table where her head is pushed down on the table. A third person behind the chair walks up and pushes the muzzle again the back of her neck. I close my eyes and try not to hear the echoing bang.

My editing work goes in trembling episodes that day. The killings. The killing is a condition. Panda’s idea of motivating. I think of my mother. I think of Pinkytail and Ponytail, Pinky who went into options trading, and Pony who said she could write a winning Panda book but said last week she was struggling, I can’t worry about her because I need to get my book done.

This is my second run. I got through the first run and went home. They all hugged me. The money, Panda’s money was in my bank account already, 99,000 dollars. Pinky hugged me and we both cried. We didn’t tell Pony but let her tag along when we picked up mom’s wheelchair, the three of us in the truck, singing and laughing. Pony cried when I paid for the wheelchair in the store, asking ‘where did you get the money, where did you get it?’ and I said I finished a Panda session. Pony burst out in crying. Couldn’t stop. Even in the car home she kept saying ‘That’s where you were, I was wondering what happened. You could have been killed Pigs, don’t ever do that again!” But I hugged her and we both cried. We bought cranberries at the farm store and we ate ice cream on the bench, we overlooked the land and the sun shone, we looked at each other and there was nothing more than love and gratitude. They didn’t know I had already signed up to go back. The edited version – once approved by Panda – would pay me $499,999.-.

Enough to buy mom and all of us a new future. We could move.

The next day, I wake up refreshed. I am not sure what has caused this but I decide to take the sweep of energy and get to work at my desk. The others complain and wipe their eyes, two of them pout about not hitting their targets but I block it out. Two double sandwiches, one with cheese and bacon, the other a peanut butter and gelly sit on my desk. I work through two chapters stringently blocking out the ward with the bell, blocking out my hunger and my tea getting cold. I read the words and weigh them in my head, re-create sentences and my muse works in the background, it’s just him and me. When I take a sip of my tea I notice it’s cold. I take a bite of my sandwich, afraid I will lose the zone I’m in if I eat more. I write like I did when I was younger, pumping out words that came to mind, the movie continued endlessly and went as fast as my fingers could keep up. For my mom. My mom, I see her at her sewing machine, winding a bobbin and working on my favorite blouse.

Before lunch I have 8 chapters done. They bring in the lunch, the bread, the bacon, and the cheese. I ate my breakfast about an hour ago but I’m hungry again.

“They brought me in,” Pony’s text says.

My hands tremble. Pony got her warning. “How far are you?”

“40k”

I look at my phone. She was at 40k yesterday, she was supposed to be at at least 50,000 words.

“You said you could do it”

“I’m scared Pigs”

Fear fills my gut. I panic. They read her work last night, they always do. Based on their algorithms they have determined Pony is in the danger zone and she needs to make up at least 50%. There is one next warning. I think of Pinky and the story I was writing on at home.

I looked to the others in my room. Some are comfortable. With headphones in and others biting their nails as they write, some panic, some pound out the words. I text Pony but she doesn’t answer back.

I eat lunch. My brain is on overdrive. I walk around the room, it’s air-conditioned but the weather outside is warm. Then Pinky texts me. I cannot look at my phone at the lunch table when the staff is there so I need to get to my desk. I chew quickly and glob down some tea. I try to make it look casual as I walk to my desk and start to type a document so it seems I’m back to work.

Pinky says: “I sent you the story, does Pony know how to decrypt? If they find out…” I see the paperclip friendly blinking in a corner. I only have to resend it to Pony. But then the door opens and Simone steps in, she looks at me with an iron smile saying ‘Come with me please’. I freeze. The others are silent and I don’t know what’s wrong. I go into the office where I signed my contract with Panda, I remember sitting here, the pen on a chain is still there.

“We are following your progress, Amanda. You are doing very well and we wondering if you’d be done by next week at this pace?”

I look up to Simone. There must have been a beautiful woman at one point I guess. Now she turned older. And less caring.

“Don’t I have 2 more weeks?”

“You do, you do. But we can get in print quicker if you want”, Amanda twists her pencil, “there could be a bonus.”

I’m silent.

“You’ll get 50,000 more”

I overthink the situation. Suddenly I don’t care about the money anymore and grab all my courage “How much does it cost me to get Pony out?”

“And your work is done?”

Is she going to say they’d take my book and we both walk? I would agree. But no matter how hard it is to stay quiet, I say nothing.

Simone doesn’t need to talk this over, she makes the decisions herself. I wonder if she is maybe the manager of Panda Books herself. She says, “Finish her story as well?”

I do the math. Two weeks and some days to finish the story. They read Pony’s story so I have to go with that, I can’t change it. I think.

Panda publishes the “Dead Man’s Anthology”, the stories from the killed authors. Unfinished stories. It sells like crazy, sometimes better than the books of the winners. Panda is in for the money. The killing is a marketing tool for them. They are the only ones with a license from the government on the condition that Panda pays the family of the writers 30%.

If I can’t produce 30,000 words per week I’ll die. With Pony. While we came here to save our mother. Get a better life. If we were to stay over the weekend I’d have to finish my book and write another 5000 words on Pony’s story. My answer not only determines the rest of my life. Pony’s as well. And the rest of the family.

Then Simone looks up. “It looks like you don’t have to decide Amanda, your sister has committed to finishing the story, I just got the message.”

“Committed?”

“She is at work right now and their ward says she’s doing good.”

I leave. Get back to my desk, the others look at me. I was never aware Pony was there until she texted me on the first day, four weeks ago. I was shocked. She said she had hoped she would in my group but Panda put her in the other group. Panda made publishers aware that they had two of the Peterson sisters writing stories and there were betting games on who would sell the best books. But Pony wasn’t a writer. Pinky read hers once and said it was fluff. She wouldn’t survive Panda’s One Million Dollar Writing Camp. But on the first day already had 30 million viewers per day. Sales skyrocketed. Said Pinky.

‘Why are you here?” I asked

“I want to help you. Do what you do”

“You’ll get yourself killed”

“You didn’t get killed.”

And I almost wanted to write ‘I can write’ but I didn’t. I didn’t sleep that first night. My sister Ponytails was here too, I tried not to get sick but it cost me 2 days to stop thinking about Pony.

Pony didn’t answer my texts after my meeting with Simone. I finished my book four days early and Pinky kept me in the loop about the contest on the outside. Bidding was way up in my favor.

I make the last revisions to my story. The bright white screen comes on every day but I ignore it. I push the ear-thing inside my ear every time so I can block it out. I block out the ward in the morning as I revise my story.

Pinky tells me Pony and I are tied. I block that out as well, this is madness, I will never sign up for a Panda writing if we make it out alive.

On the last day, the screen comes on but now it’s black.

We look at each other, 17 left from our group.

From the screen in high definition I can hear Pony ‘I couldn’t make it. Go Pigtails, go’ and the click is silent but deafening. I scream, I cry, They killed Pony? They killed my sister! We were tied!

My book sells well.

Pony’s sells better. It was the only one sold as a separate book. Pony’s share floats into our bank account.

Panda’s show brings in millions.

My family moves. We do get a better house, and my mother gets better. We bury Pony, Pony gave us a better life. Pony outsmarted us all.

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justfandomwritings · 6 years ago

Text

Magic and Misfortune (Loki)

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Request: “I haven’t found someone that writes as well as this for the MCU for a while😂 I’ve seen AUs where gods from different cultures are in one universe and I’ve got a little scenario in my head that sounded pretty cool. Loki x reader who’s a daughter of Zeus. If you could write something like this, that would be AWESOME! Thank you!!😊💕” - Anonymous

Notes: So... I love the idea behind this fic. Not just the request, I love the Greek myth I am reinterpreting and basing it on, and anyone familiar with this particular myth will see how well it fits with Loki. BUT I think my execution here might be a touch lacking, and I’m kinda disappointed in myself and im not sure why really, so if anyone has any opinions, ideas or constructive criticism let me know. I reserve the right to turn this into a series or make this a standalone if I decide not to write part two. It works as both.

*This fic has also not been edited and that’s part of why

There were more than Nine Realms. A point Asgard, particularly its king, often refused to acknowledge.

The space between the Nine and the realms beyond was enough to excuse Aesir ignorance for those not amongst the royal court. When one wasn’t dealing regularly with other realms, it was easy to imagine Asgard stood alone, or at least above the rest, and it was effortless to pretend that Odin ruled all of the known worlds.

He was Odin, after all. He was the All-Father, the Ancient One, the Great King. The stories said he was all seeing and all knowing. The Aesir thought him a man worthy of the crown atop his head. They thought themselves without equal, above all. None held this belief more than Odin.

Tales of his great conquest of the Nine Realms had died on the lips of those few old enough to know them, and many saw him only as their benevolent lord. Few knew the stories of the wars Odin waged. Not the wars against the Jotunns, those were bedtime stories of the Aesir. The subjugation of Vanaheim; the decimation of Alfheim; the destruction of Niflheim: these were stories only for the ears of those most trusted to the King and those so persuasive and cunning that no secret was beyond their reach.

It was Loki, therefore, who was the first to make contact with Gaia.

They were the realms closest to the Nine. Compared with the size of the universe, Gaia was practically within arm’s reach of Midgard, so close that even humanity was aware of their existence. An accessible and fortuitous target for the supposedly all-powerful King of Asgard.

But Gaia was no Midgard, and Asgard was not so without equal as they claimed to be. Gaia was the doorstep on which Odin had paused.

Gaia was an alliance of three kings, each with their own kingdom: Olympus, ruled by Zeus; Tartarus, ruled by his brother Hades; and Arcadia, ruled by the final brother Poseidon.

They were constantly at war with each other, but nothing united the three like an external threat over which they could display their dominance. When Odin had set foot at the base of Olympus, a truly majestic realm if there ever was one, Zeus had called on his brothers, currently warring over an insignificant, miniscule ice realm known as Hyperborea. They set aside their feud and arrived before nightfall, and Odin, upon meeting the three, had left by morning.

As a child, upon first coming to the realization of his father’s war-riddled past, Loki had asked his father why he never told them stories of how he united the Nine Realms. Odin had told Loki that he thought violence nothing worthy of praise and that his millennia of peace with Jotunheim was far more worthy of tales than any battle.

As a man, upon hearing the stories and seeing his father for who he truly was, Loki thought the story of being humbled at Gaia was likely the true reason Odin did not speak of conquering the Nine Realms.

Loki knew the tale by heart, and he wanted to see the place of its birth. He wanted to see the place Odin could not claim, the place Odin accepted defeat, or at least retreat.

“Father,” Loki’s silver tongue went to work. “Perhaps, we might speak of Gaia.” He had been careful to catch the All-Father alone. It would prove easier to sway him this way, and he would not be shut down by the presence of those who were less aware than himself.

“What of it, son? They do not bother us, and we do not bother with them.” Odin dismissed offhand as he sat with his younger son in the library.

“I would like to see the place, Father.” Loki confessed. “In part, I confess, for my own curiosity. I will never sit on the throne of the Nine Realms, and for that, I’d like to see what lies beyond the throne’s purview. Though, I suppose the greater part is in the usefulness of spying Asgard’s greatest threat.”

“Threat?” Odin eyed Loki over the top of the text he was reading. “How are they a threat?”

“There is no doubt, Father,” Loki rushed to sooth, “that you and Thor and the armies of Asgard could handle an onslaught from three oafs like the ones ruling Gaia, but even a battle against three so unskilled would still cause Asgard loses given their sheer size. Does it not worry you that one day, after you are gone, they will grow discontent to fight amongst themselves? Or worse, see us as weak without your omnipotent guidance?”

“It may be worthy of thought, but your brother has trained for such a thing. Defending the Realm Eternal is his birthright, and he will do it well.”

“I suppose, but the lives lost…” Loki sighed and looked away contemplatively. “Though, I suppose you are correct in that. The only way to prevent such a battle entirely would be to claim the three as Asgard’s newest realms, and who’s to say such a thing is possible? We know nothing of them since your return from their shores.”

Loki watched his father from the corner of his eye. All of Asgard knew of his ‘silvertongue’, as they called it. Yet, somehow, they all allowed themselves to be goaded into his thinking. Perhaps, because he managed to convince them all that it was their thinking he was commenting on and not his own. How many times had he convinced Thor to do something so thoroughly that the God of Thunder actually thought he himself had come up with such an intelligent idea.

Odin conceded the point rather hesitantly, “We know nothing of their realms or their state. It is beyond the sight of the throne and of Heimdall.”

“Such a shame,” Loki mused. “After a millennia fighting themselves, they could be a hardened force beyond compare… or entirely obliterated and ripe for the taking… I suppose we will never know.”

If Loki could make Odin see Gaia as a place teetering between threat and opportunity, a place that could make or destroy his legacy, then surely Odin would take the bait. And if he could make that opportunity seem ripe for the taking, an opportunity to finally claim his title Lord of the Spear once more, Odin would be far too greedy to let the opportunity pass to Thor.

Loki let the thoughts stew in his father’s head for several weeks before he dropped another line about Gaia, then weeks later made another about the conquest, and months past that another about Thor’s coming reign.

It took two years before, finally, his father had slowly, subconsciously, been worked into a desperate need to, at the bare minimum, know what Gaia was doing. And there was only one man, one spy, with a tongue that could charm any ear and magic that could open any door, whom Odin would trust with the task.

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The Bifrost was built to traverse the Nine Realms. It was possible to further its reach, but such a thing would require time and attention that Loki and Odin did not wish to draw on their endeavours.

Loki, instead, was to walk the paths the All-Father once took to reach Gaia millennia ago.

He took a ship, piloted and manned by him and him alone, and he went out past the Rainbow Bridge, past the Bifrost itself. On the orders of the King, Heimdall’s sure hands sent Loki to Gaia’s closest realm, Midgard.

Midgard encompassed a solar system that encircled a star called the Sun. Only one of the planets was inhabited, a planet called Earth teaming with inferior beings who thought themselves alone in the universe. However, Loki didn’t need the help of the humans who bent the knee and called him God. Heimdall, instead, dropped his ship at the edge of the solar system, just past a planet the humans called Pluto.

From there, Loki navigated fields of asteroids and stretches of empty space, honing in on coordinates that were a thousand years out-of-date, so that he might have some starting point for his search.

It took him a matter of weeks before, looming on the horizon, Loki finally saw it.

He docked his ship amongst others porting on an exterior wooden scaffold and approached the towering walls of Olympus.

Magnificent marble gates, carved from a single piece of stone, loomed twentyfold over Loki’s head. Their height was such that he was sure they would conceal the entire Palace of Asgard from view if they wished.

Chiseled into their face, by the hand of a true master, were images he could only assume were from their realm’s history. The scenes wound their way in a serpentine motion down the stone with an intricacy the likes of which Loki had never seen. The dwarves would pale if they saw such flawless craftsmanship achieved by any hand but their own.

Much of the history presented to him was beyond his understanding, but Loki recognized the still that greeted him at eye level instantly. It was a famous tale on Midgard, one clearly founded in a kernel of truth.

It depicted three brothers standing side by side in triumph. Each held their weapon of choice, spears with an increasing number of points progressing down the line to the final brother’s trident. The marble wasn’t inlaid with anything, yet through the natural skill of its carvers the colors of the stone seemed to convey the varying material of each blade.

The men stood atop a form the size of a mountain but was clearly a body, decapitated, the head balanced under the right foot of the one holding the single-tipped spear. The dying face turned so it’s unseeing eyes looked down on any who approached the gate.

Crowds, carved in a far smaller height, pushed in around the massive headless beast and cheered on their new leaders who were flanked, in the background of the depiction by a stoic group of beautiful companions.

It was the Midgardian Kronos myth incarnate. Loki would know it anywhere.

He wondered, mostly to himself, if the sons really had killed their father, if they had simply taken credit for his death, or if they had merely indulged in some lighthearted propaganda. None seemed implausible.

“Who are you to approach the Gates of Zeus?” boomed a voice high atop the walls.

Loki bowed to one knee and called out, “I am Loki Odinson, Prince of Asgard, and I would be humbled to make acquaintance with your city.”

There was a loud scraping, and rather than parting as most gates would, the stone slab lifted from the ground only just high enough for Loki to pass under it.

“Welcome to Olympus.”

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“Welcome to Olympus, Prince Loki.”

It was the fourth time he had been greeted in such a way.

The first had been the gatekeeper who allowed Loki entrance. He came down from the tower at the peak of the walls via the largest ladder Loki had ever seen, a set of rails and steps carved directly into the backside of the rock leading up to their guard tower.

The second had been the kindly older man who came to escort the prince through the pristine cobblestone streets to the palace.

The third had been the palace guard who asked the older man to wait with Loki a moment while he saw if any member of the royal court was expecting or wished to speak with him. Loki quickly informed the soldier that this voyage was one taken merely for pleasure, and that his arrival would be expected by none. The guard came back approximately ten minutes later bringing a beautiful young woman in tow.

She was the fourth to greet Loki, the first to do so using his title.

Her clothing was something more appropriate for a lowly servant girl than a member of court. The dress was a dull grey made of a scratchy, shapeless material that did nothing for her body or her coloring. If not for the way she carried herself, Loki would have believed hers the facade of a lowly maid.

As it was, shoulders high, chin up, back straight, she carried herself with the pride and respect known only to true nobility. It crossed his mind that there may be nothing to her outfit, that it may just be the style of the place; but he recalled many properly dressed ladies as he made his way to her doorstep. She certainly wasn’t lying or putting on a show for him; he would sense that. She truly did dress this way. Her garb served some different purpose, and the idea he would deduce it later was intriguing to him.

“Thank you, my lady,” Loki bowed to her as he would any peer on Asgard, airing on the side of respectful caution. “It is an honor to be welcomed in your beautiful realm.”

The woman smiled politely and offered Loki her arm. “I am afraid that if you came to see King Zeus you will be disappointed. It is a day of council, and our King and Queen are away with their advisors and will not return until tomorrow. The palace has been left in lesser hands.”

“That is quite fine by me. I did not come for any significant purpose.” Loki looped her arm through his and allowed her to guide him into the hall.

The palace was, like the gate, made of marble. Much of the streets and buildings he had passed walking in were similarly carved from blocks of a variety of beautiful stones, but it seemed that marble had been reserved for the rich and royal.

“What, may I ask, brings you here if it is nothing of importance?” The woman guided him smoothly through marble hall after marble hall, winding him deeper into the depths of her domain.

“Nothing more or less than my own curiosity,” Loki confessed. “Your people and mine have been without contact for so many centuries that there are some who believe your existence to be nothing more than myth.”

“And are you one of those?”

“Well, I am here,” Loki pointed out.

The woman nodded thoughtfully. “This is true, but you could have notions of what we were that remain to be disproven.”

“If they’ve yet to be disproven then how could I say they were myth?” Loki countered.

A genuine smile pulled at the woman’s lips, and Loki couldn’t help but return the gesture. It was rare that he was able to have intelligent conversations with anyone beyond his mother. He knew, for certain, that Asgard was teaming with wise and intelligent men and women ripe with knowledge, but Asgard never glorified such things. Those who did have a mind usually kept it hidden.

The woman changed the subject with ease as she pulled Loki to a stop.

“The main receiving room is here,” The door was nothing more than a beautiful, thick purple fabric, pinned or floating by some means Loki could not discern, between two columns forming the entryway.

“Thank you, my lady.” Loki stepped to the doorway, pausing to turn back. “Might I ask your name?”

“My name is (Y/n),”

(Y/n). Loki thought on the name as he passed through the purple curtain.

(Y/n) was certainly not a common name in Asgard. Nor, oddly, was it a name Loki had heard in his studies. Prior to arriving on Olympus, he had been sure to read the old Midgardian lore of its people. Like the myths of the Norse, he was sure there were inaccuracies. But the stories had to come from somewhere, and Loki knew better than most that there was always some truth to be discerned even from the tallest tale. Still, there was nothing of (Y/n).

“Prince Loki!”

Mere moments later, through the curtain Loki had just passed came the most vile woman upon whom Loki had ever laid his eyes.

It wasn’t that she was ugly; though Loki had to confess she was not at all something he would consider attractive. More, it was her presence.

The moment she walked in the door Loki found everything off-putting. The room was less grand. The floors less polished. The air less clean.

There was a toxicity to this woman that even Loki, prided for creating chaos and mischief wherever he went, found disconcerting.

“My lady,” Loki didn’t bow, instead greeting the newcomer head on. Something seemed wrong about showing this woman a spot so vulnerable as his neck.

The woman waved a hand, garishly bedecked in golden jewels that only made her fingers look all the more spindly and haggered. “I am Princess Eris. It is my understanding you would have no cause to know that, so I will let the informality pass.”

“Forgive me,” Loki conceded a nod of his head but nothing more, “Princess.”

“Think nothing of it!” With what Loki could only describe as a jump, the woman flung herself on the nearest of three settees that filled much of the space in the room. “You’ll forgive me, in turn, for sending the bastard to the door to greet you. I was not expecting any royal visits in the absence of my father. I needed the time to prepare myself but did not wish to keep you waiting.”

“The girl then, (Y/n). I had not heard her name before.”

“One of my father’s many bastards,” Eris gestured to the seat opposite her. “Please join me. I apologize. Of course, she did not inform you to make yourself comfortable. She fails at a great many things.”

“The occasional mistake cannot be helped,” Loki took the seat with a well-practiced grace and perched himself on the edge. “I must say, I have heard of you, Princess Eris, in the time I spent studying the stories on Midgard. I would have thought, with your family’s notoriety I would have heard of (Y/n).”

Eris rolled her eyes, “Midgard,” and scoffed. “Yes, well you wouldn’t have heard her name there. They got a great many things wrong in their tales, those humans. (Y/n) walked among them more than all of us. She often stooped to their level, and they were quite taken with her for it. Harmonia, that was what they called her, a far prettier name than she deserved. They thought it suited her, but alas they were wrong.”

And suddenly it all made sense to Loki.

Two sisters, dueling for all eternity, constantly trying to best each other in their own way. Eris, the selfish sister loved most by her family and their father, the entitled eldest who thrived on conflict and discord, who started the Trojan War.

He knew why Eris disconcerted him so, and now as he saw the ignorance in her eye and heard the condescension in her voice he could see and hear nothing but his brother Thor.

“Princess, might it be too much of me to ask your leave? It has been a long and lonely journey from Asgard, and it might benefit my skill of conversation if I first rested.”

“Of course!” Eris pushed to her feet and motioned back to the curtain from whence they came. “(Y/n) will be waiting in the hall. She can take you to a room.”

“You’re most kind.” And without another word, he fled.

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“Perhaps it is not my place,” (Y/n) began quietly as she walked by Loki’s side. “You do not look weary from your journey at all.”

Loki chuckled. He had a feeling he could trust this sister, if not for his own reasons than at least in his understanding of her relationship with Eris. “Well, perhaps I am not weary from the journey, but simply weary of the company.”

(Y/n) smiled, a knowing smile. “I imagine you would not be the first to tire swiftly in Eris’s presence.”

“Your sister is certainly an acquired taste.”

“She would not like to hear you say such things.” (Y/n) hedged quickly.

Loki’s eyebrow hitched up slightly. “Would she not? Surely she must at least be somewhat aware of her effects.”

“No, I’m sure she is. I was referring to the word sister.” (Y/n) jerked at the edge of her rough-worn dress. “Queen Hera was not my mother. Unlike most of the bastards born of my father, my mother was also nobility. I could not be so easily forgotten as the others, but I am by no means loved.”

“And how do you feel for this? Your sister, for she is whether she denies it or not, made her views very clear.”

Something dark, dangerous, flashed behind (Y/n)’s eyes. It was gone so fast that if Loki were not Loki he would not have seen her rage. “It is not my place to say. I am fortunate the Great Goddess shows me such mercies as allowing my presence here.” The voice that came from her was smooth, automatic.

The thought flashed through Loki’s mind one last time before he made an irreversible decision. ‘Her sister is just another Thor, another Thor not protected by Odin.’

Loki offered (Y/n) his arm as they rounded a corner and put a wall between themselves and Eris. “Now, now, (Y/n),” his tone, for the first time since his arrival, dropped its formality and reverence, taking on its usual teasing lilt. “You cannot lie to the God of Lies, nor do you need to.”

(Y/n) hesitantly accepted his arm but remained silent for him to continue.

“Tell me what ails you, and perhaps my knack for magic and misfortune can find a worthy hand to wield it.”

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Taglist:

Forever Taglist:

@maybe-a-fangurl / @libbymouse / @petra-arkanian-1497

Marvel Taglist:

@the-high-queen / @iamverity / @darktownairspeed / @radicalstars

Loki Taglist:

@adefectivedetective / @iamverity / @kybaeza

Other people have asked to be on the taglist that I’ve forgotten. If you are one of those, please do me the favor of dropping an ask in my box with which list you’re supposed to or would like to be on.

#loki fanfiction #loki x reader #Loki Laufeyson x Reader #loki odinson x reader #loki one shot #loki oneshot #loki au #marvel oneshot #marvel fanfiction #avengers one shot #avengers oneshot #avengers fanfiction #avengers imagine #loki fluff

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deadmansgun · 4 years ago

Text

Positivity meme || Accepting

@yukikorogashi sent : 💞 💖 💘 💕

Send 💞 and my muse will say something nice about your muse

Five months after that rainy day on the mountain side, the family had went to the Yukon so John could try his luck in the final year of the Klondike Gold Rush. John had returned home to the cabin late at night, Abigail and Jack were already asleep, but Itsuki had waited up to greet John upon his return with her smile like always.

After getting settled in, they sat together in the small dining room while John ate the leftovers Abigail had saved for him earlier. Despite the new scenery, it didn’t seem like Itsuki was still truly happy, she wore a smile, but he knew what was always on her mind. Arthur. A loss they had both suffered from, but as much as it hurt John, he knew that it had effected Itsuki even more given that he was the one who saved her, just like he saved him.

He finished his food, pushed his empty bowl of stew aside and tuned to face the little girl.

[{ ☠ }] - “Listen, Itty. I know you ain’t really all that happy as ya seem.” He begins, his sentence would cause a curious tilt of her head, so he continued.

[{ ☠ }] - “I know you still miss him sweetie, I do too.” He rests a hand gently on her shoulder.

[{ ☠ }] - “But look at how far you’ve come from that Itty, five months and you can still smile, an’ you’re still tryin’ your best t’cheer Jack up even when you’re still hurtin’ yourself. You’re such a brave and strong lil’ gal, we all love ya.”

[{ ☠ }] - “I’m proud of ya Itty, and so would he be. An together all of us, we’re gonna live the life he wanted us to have. an because your bein’ so strong, we’re already a couple steps closer ta that.” After that, he gently pulled her into a hug, but after they softly pulled back, John reached into his satchel and took out’s Arthur’s hat and plopped it on Itsuki’s head.

[{ ☠ }] - “Looks much more better on you.” He smiles.

[{ ☠ }] - “Ya wear this, an he’ll always be there with ya.”

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Send 💖 and my muse will say something nice about you, the mun

With a cigarette in his hand, John casually made his approach, offering a mannerly tip of his hat as he stopped in front of her. He took the final drag of his smoke before tossing it to the ground and crushing it with his boot.

[{ ☠ }] - “Miss Beckowsky was it? John Marston, a pleasure t’finally meet’cha.”

[{ ☠ }] - “Heard a bit about ya from an old friend, I reckon ya know ‘em, said a lotta good, But I’ve seen it for myself on the sidelines too.”

[{ ☠ }] - “Yer quite the young woman miss Beckowsky. Mighty kind, real friendly, strong, welcomin’ and a loyal friend, an’ you’re always willin’ t’help. Ain’t much people like that nowadays..”

He offers a friendly smile.

[{ ☠ }] - “You got a heart of gold Miss Beckowsky. You’re a good woman, one of the best, don’t let any sour folk out there make ya think or tell ya otherwise. The world could use more folk as kind as you.”

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Send 💘 and the mun will say something nice about your muse

I always thought It was sad how underrated of a character Itsuki was in the Sengoku Basara series I personally thought she was a cute little snowball of joy. And for a twelve year old girl to fight for her village all alone is impressive, it would be scary for any other child, but not only is she adorable, but she’s a brave and tough little snow cookie. And you bring out all the things that make her such a great and amazing character who I truly wish got more attention. I stand by what I said about your Itsuki being a ray of sunshine. :)

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Send 💕 and the mun will say something nice about you, the mun

Becks. Honestly I have a lot I could say about you, some of it you’ve probably heard me say to you before haha.

But gosh, I don’t think I’ve ever met someone as openly welcoming as you. I’m so glad we were able to click so easily as friends as started talking more. You’re easy to talk to, incredibly super kind, a very talented writer. A truly amazing artist and a very helpful person. The fact you were willing to lend a hand to me with icons when we didn’t talk too much at the time. It may seem small, but it really did mean a lot for you to go through all the trouble of making me icons when you were so busy with work and such.

I’m happy that we’re beginning to talk more, I’ve enjoyed all of our talks so far and definitely look forward to getting to know you more each time we talk. We all know, Tumblr can have its good share of unsavory people out there who like to cause drama and no one needs that. You are truly a rare treasure to find on here and I’m glad we met. I hope you have a wonderful day/evening! :)

#yukikorogashi #Lᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ Rᴇᴄᴇɪᴠᴇᴅ: Asᴋ Aɴsᴡᴇʀᴇᴅ #ᴠ; A Gᴏᴏᴅ Mᴀɴ Dɪᴇᴅ Fᴏʀ Mᴇ Iᴛ's ᴜᴘ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ʜᴏɴᴏʀ ᴛʜᴀᴛ (Pᴏsᴛ-RDR2)#Wʜᴏ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴇʟʟ ɪs ᴛʜɪs sᴛʀᴀɢɢʟᴇʀ? (OOC)#//Of course its okay for you to send one Becks #//I'm glad you did :)#//I hope you enjoyed the little thing with John an Itsuki btw :3 #//Gave myself some feels making it xD..#//But I meant what I said #//I'm glad we became friends :)#Long Post #Queue

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chroniclackofselfpreservation · 4 years ago

Text

Creatures of the Night

Chapter 16 - when love’s reliance ends

Back to the Beginning < Previous chapter / Next chapter >

AO3

Masterlist

(TW: verbal and physical abuse, PTSD, flashbacks, toxic relationships, graphic imagery)

(The title of the chapter comes from "Unkindness" by Charles Swain)

This can’t be happening, was what Virgil would have thought, had he been in a decent state of mind when he was swallowed by the Witch Queen’s beast. Instead, he fought the urge to faint as hot slippery muscles contracted around him, forcing him deeper into the demon’s gullet.

Ursula was right. He was pathetic. He should be fighting right now. Scratching and biting; anything to get the serpent to throw him back up.

But he did nothing.

It was like his mind couldn’t completely register what was happening. That, and the pain in his newly broken leg kept him just dizzy enough to keep him unfocused.

Panic coursed through him like someone had opened his mouth and stuck his face under a waterfall, and yet he wasn’t yowling in terror. He was barely thrashing.

Virgil couldn’t breathe, but he couldn’t tell if it was the white hot terror of imminent death seizing in his chest or the disgusting lumps of slimy muscle pressing into him, suffocating his small frame.

He could shift into a human. Right? That must do something.

No. Bloodwyrm had eaten plenty of humans before. Unless he could turn into something bigger, there was no hope. He was going to die here.

His lungs burned. His leg sent spikes of pain up his entire body every time the muscles pressed down on it. He choked on bitter, tacky fluids he couldn’t name.

Virgil vaguely felt Ursula’s presence in his mind.

I can’t believe you’re being serious right now, she complained.

How long before he hit stomach acid? How quickly would it kill him? Would he die from the burning or just drown first? He couldn’t believe he was going to be digested.

Alright, fine, hold on… she muttered, their connection waning.

Virgil’s lungs spasmed and the sticky slime filled his mouth, his nose. His body felt heavy. His eyes slipped shut…

* * * * * * * * * *

“...dead? Can I take his eyes? They’d go for some solid coin.”

“Shut up, he isn’t dead yet.”

Something pressed down hard on Virgil’s ribs, forcing whatever blocked his throat up and out. He squirmed weakly as he vomited up juices that definitely weren’t his own. All of his limbs felt weighed down, like he’d just waded through mud… or…

Images and smells assaulted him out of nowhere. His ears filled with that horrid squelching sound, and his eyes flew open, his breath catching in his chest.

“What’s wrong with him?” Remus asked, poking him. Virgil wanted to growl, to scream, to claw Remus’s eyes out, something, but he couldn’t move, staring blankly ahead and suffering through the agonizing sensations wracking his mind.

“He’s all slimy,” The hobgoblin noted.

“I think Bloodwyrm swallowed him,” Ursula said. A wave of her hand, and Virgil was dry once more.

Virgil let out a shuddering breath, curling in on himself.

Remus poked him once again, and he shivered.

“Leave him be, goblin,” Ursula said softly, getting up and walking away. Remus grumbled something under his breath, but obeyed. Virgil should have been grateful for that small act of kindness, but he couldn’t.

He couldn’t think of anything else but the feeling of being eaten.

* * * * * * * * * *

Days passed in a blur.

Virgil didn’t speak. He wasn’t sure he could, at this point. He stayed in his human form as much as possible, vainly hoping that being big and intimidating would help him feel better.

It didn’t.

He still woke up screaming, or as a terrified, confused cat. Everything he did was exhausting. His heart constantly raced at little things, like the lights being out, or the sound of Remus swallowing his food.

That was what really got him. Remus would chew his food loudly, gulping water down, watching Virgil from the corner of his eye. Virgil would usually end up storming out of the cottage, or getting so worked up he swore he’d kill Remus in his sleep.

Sometimes, he was so angry he thought he’d explode, but for no reason in particular. When he finally did start speaking again, Ursula rolled her eyes and asked if he was finally over “the whole mission-thing.”

“I’m fine,” he lied. Remus grinned at that, and Virgil felt a little pocket of dread open up inside him. He hadn’t told either of them yet, but he couldn’t use his powers. Aside from shifting between a cat and a human, he hadn’t been able to perform any of his usual magic.

He was useless, and now completely helpless to defend himself from Remus. It was only a matter of time before they figured it out.

* * * * * * * * * *

“What do you mean you can’t do it?” Ursula demanded around a mouthful of stew.

Virgil’s chest constricted. “I—I don’t know, I guess I haven’t been myself lately, and—”

Ursula slammed her spoon down on the table and Virgil flinched. She pointed the utensil at him like a weapon. “You’re still hung up on what Bloodwyrm did, aren’t you, you pathetic cat? I thought I told you to stop freaking out about it. It’s over. It happened, like, a month ago, now.”

“I’m not freaking out about it,” Virgil protested, but it came out halting and breathless. “I don’t know why my magic isn’t working.”

“Nature spirits almighty! You’d think you were tortured or something! You just broke a leg, Virgil, stop being such a baby about it,” she said, throwing her hands in the air. “I might just get it in my head to make Remus my familiar instead of you, how about that?”

Remus perked up. “Really?”

“No, you’re too ugly,” she said, waving a hand. Remus snorted, nodding in agreement.

Virgil shrank down.

“For crying out loud, you stay in that human form so much, it’s like you think you’re a person, or something! Get a hold of yourself, you aren’t a kitten anymore. Bad things happen to everyone, Virgil. You aren’t special,” she grumbled.

“I’m sorr—”

“Shut up! Could you be less pathetic for five minutes?!” She snapped, and flung her bowl of stew at him. The bowl struck Virgil’s shoulder and bathed him in scalding broth. He cried out, stumbling back.

“There’s your dinner. I’m done arguing with you. Go clean yourself up before you get crap all over the floor,” Ursula muttered, walking off to her room in a huff. Virgil wiped his face, careful not to flick his hands and get it everywhere. He went to go outside, but his hand was covered in broth, and he didn’t want to touch the doorknob. Wiping it on his tunic as best he could, he stepped outside into the freezing air.

“If I were Ursula,” Remus mused, leaning out of the kitchen window the leer at him, “I’d send you back to the palace and have Bloodwyrm finish the job.”

“Go away, Remus.”

“No, I don’t think I will,” he said, rocking a little on the sill.

Virgil glared at him, but he couldn’t deny the streak of fear coursing through him. He knew it would only be a matter of time before Remus realized that Virgil couldn’t fight back anymore.

His grin stretched. “What’re you gonna do? Cry really hard? You know, I heard that if you stomp on the ground and say his name four times, he’ll show up.”

Virgil stalked away, off to the river to clean himself up. He heard the crunch of Remus hopping out of the window and tromping through the snow after him. Virgil may not be able to fight back with magic anymore, but he was still taller than Remus by two and a half feet. That had to mean something, right?

Virgil knelt in the snow at the riverbed, quickly shucking off his stained tunic and dunking it in the water. If he were his normal self, he could have been rid of the stain in a matter of seconds with a few quick words. Now, he was shivering next to a river like… like a mortal human.

He was a familiar. A magical creature. And yet in that moment by the river, with Remus tracking lewd pictures into the fresh snow only yards behind him, he’d never felt more human.

“Kitty! Come check this out! Did I make the tits too big?” Remus shouted, apparently forgetting his previous engagement of pestering Virgil. “What am I saying? Tits can’t be too big. They are a bit lopsided, though.” He shrugged. “Points for realism, I guess.”

Virgil didn’t respond, shivering as the winter breeze swept over his bare shoulders. It was going to take forever for the fabric to dry if he hung it outside. Maybe he’d hang it by the fire, and keep a careful watch on Ursula’s bedroom door.

His hands became numb and clumsy with cold as he wrung out his tunic. It still smelled like stew.

He’d have to try and warm himself by the fire as well, if that didn’t attract too much attention.

Steeling himself, Virgil dipped his cupped hands into the stream and splashed his face with the icy water, working the tacky broth from his skin and hair.

A ball of snow struck the back of his neck, and he nearly lost balance and fell into the water.

Remus hooted triumphantly and sauntered over. “You know, I think I’m gonna miss your old self.”

Virgil glowered up at him. “What are you talking about?”

Just as he said the words, something smooth and wet wrapped around his ankle. Virgil’s head filled with the glint of smooth gold scales and he scrambled back, managing to slip on the bank and tumble into the icy stream.

“Old Virgil didn’t make it so easy,” he said, crinkling his nose.

Seething, Virgil pulled the slimy black root from his ankle, and chucked it at Remus, who easily dodged.

He started back toward the cottage. “See you inside, kitty-cat!”

Virgil stood, trying to still his shivering body and hammering heart. He retrieved his tunic from where it had landed in the snow, and made his way back to the cottage as well.

The cottage meant warmth and shelter from the elements.

But it also meant pain. And memories. And shame that hung around his neck like a chain.

Yes, it was in these moments Virgil felt more human than ever.

* * * * * * * * * *

Six months later.

Virgil followed behind Ursula as his normal, four-legged self, watching her back and tensed shoulders. They hadn’t been back inside the Witchlands in decades. Not much had changed.

Ursula fingered the charm she wore about her neck, something she'd spent months crafting for the express purpose of slipping past the banishment spell keeping her out of the Witchlands.

Remus walked beside Virgil, absentmindedly trying to grab his tail as it swished through the air.

Ursula was in a bad mood. Primarily because the entire reason she’d needed the charm was so she could meet up with someone who apparently knew how to fix Virgil.

He was proving more than a little inconvenient to say the least.

They all rounded the side of a hill and found a quaint little log cabin nested among the trees. Smoke seeped from the chimney and warm light shine from the windows.

Ursula stalked forward, pushing the door open without knocking.

A figure in a billowy green blouse, brown leather corset, and cotton pants looked up from her seat beside the fire. Her hair was the color of coal smoke and her eyes as amber as the setting sun.

She smirked. “You know, Ursula, maybe if you had more manners—“

“Oh, shut up, Amaryllis. I need a favor.”

The other witch shut the book open on her lap. “A favor?”

Ursula scowled. “I broke you out of a demon-guarded dungeon, you know.”

Amaryllis winced at the word “demon.” Virgil guessed she must have similar, bad experiences with the beast. As did most people who crossed its path.

“More like blowing a hole in the wall and letting us take care of the rest,” she muttered. “Fine. What do you want?”

“My familiar’s broken,” she said, stepping aside and gesturing to Virgil.

“Really?” Amaryllis said, looking between Remus and Virgil skeptically. “Which one is he?”

“Don’t be smart,” Ursula snapped.

Amaryllis rolled her eyes, then fixed her gaze on Virgil. His ears flattened against his head against his will, his tail dropping to the floor. He’d grown hateful of attention.

The black-haired witch looked at Ursula and Remus. “I’m going to need you two to step outside.”

“Are you serious?”

“As the constellation.”

“Whatever,” Ursula muttered, turning on her heel and pinning Virgil with a glare. He took half a step back, watching as both she and the hobgoblin left.

Amaryllis grabbed her book and reopened it, leaning back into her chair. “Finally,” she sighed, touching her finger to her tongue and turning a page, “She’s such a terror, isn’t she?”

Virgil shifted, unsure of what to do. Should I shift to a human? he thought. How would he talk with her otherwise? Unless, of course, she didn’t need to talk to him.

“Oh you’re quite alright the way you are, Virgil,” she said, not looking up from her book.

Virgil stiffened. She knew his name!

You can hear me?

The witch’s eyebrows knit together. “Of course, I can. I’m a witch.”

You’re not my witch.

“So? As long as you want me to hear you, I can. Jeez, did Ursula not teach you anything?”

Virgil shrank. Sorry.

Amaryllis’s eyes went wide. “What? No! I wasn’t mad at you, I’m angry with Ursula if nothing else.” Her voice went soft. “What has she filled your head with?”

Can we get onto the part where you fix me? Virgil asked impatiently. The sooner he was out of the spotlight, the better.

“Okay,” she said, though she looked as if she was definitely not okay with moving on. She glanced at the corner of her cottage, but there was nothing there. “What seems to be the problem?”

I can’t do magic anymore.

“What do you mean?”

Other than shifting, I can’t do magic. It just doesn’t come out. Even shifting gets hard if I’m… upset… or something.

“Do you have any idea why this is happening?”

…Yes.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

No.

Amaryllis’s eyes narrowed and Virgil’s pulse picked up. “Was it Ursula?”

No, he said, then carefully thought to just himself, though she certainly hasn’t helped.

The witch set her book on the side table. “When was the last time you sat on someone’s lap?”

Virgil went still.

“Or let someone pet you? Any type of affection?”

...I don’t remember.

Amaryllis patted her legs. “Would you like some?”

Virgil hesitated.

“You can say no, if you want,” she said. “Whatever you decide is fine by me.”

He padded forward slowly, fighting with himself inside. Yes, he wanted it, but at the same time his body was freaking out at being within range of her hands. Hands that could grab and tug and hit. How was this supposed to help him fix his problem?

Entirely too soon, he was at her knees and was faced with a decision. Biting back on his fear he leaped from the floor to her lap. He remained facing her as he sat down on her legs, but couldn’t bring himself to look at her, instead fixating on the arm of her chair.

“Thank you for trusting me, Virgil. That was very brave of you.”

Virgil felt his throat grow right with emotion. He couldn’t cry as a cat—not the same as a human would, at least—but it would have been a close thing had he been in his other form.

“Can I touch you? Feel free to say no,” she said. Virgil was shocked. She was being so gentle with him. It made sense, seeing as he was broken, but he wasn’t used to being asked permission for anything.

Go ahead, he said, still not meeting her eyes. He tried not to jump when the tips of her fingers grazed the fur along his spine, but his body jerked anyway.

Sorry.

“You don’t have to apologize,” she said, petting him again, this time with her full hand, scratching very softly.

Virgil felt his eyes closing, a deep rumbling filling his chest. He greeted the purr joyfully, like a long lost friend he hadn’t seen in ages.

Amaryllis stroked his back, his legs, his chest, even the side of his face. Virgil felt more relaxed than he had in… in a really long time, now that he thought about it. She ran her hand over the top of his head and down the back of his neck—

Every muscle in Virgil’s body tensed. He felt dizzy and suddenly weightless. Tossed through the air into a gaping, fanged maw…

Her hand left his fur immediately. “I’m sorry. I should have asked.”

He blinked, swallowing back the revulsion creeping up his throat. He shook his head. It wasn’t your fault. It was actually quite nice, he said.

She smiled softly. “Your claws are buried in my legs, Virgil. I think that’s a pretty clear sign you aren’t alright.”

He looked down and saw with mounting horror that she was right. He’d hurt her. He retracted his claws as fast as he could, scrambling back off her lap. She didn’t try to grab him, which he was a little thankful for.

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, he blurted, ears pressed flat.

“I assure you, I’m fine. Look, I’m barely bleeding. It was just a scratch.”

He’d made her bleed. Oh, Ursula was going to kill him.

We need to leave soon, he said, glancing nervously at the door. Can you help me get my magic back, or not?

Amaryllis looked at him sadly, but stood and said, “Yes, I can.” She rummaged through a few of her things before pulling out… a button? It was black and oblong, with purple swirls spiraling toward its center.

What’s that supposed to do?

“It’s a talisman—well, not yet, but I’ll make it one in a minute. It’s sort of like a link, connecting you to the magic you lost.” She lifted a finger. “Now, this doesn’t fix anything. Without it, you’ll remain as you are until you go through the much longer process of actually healing.”

But I’ll be able to do magic again?

“Yes,” she said, almost sadly. “You will do magic again.”

The witch fixed the button to a chain, looped it around his neck and chanted sweetly, “Stitch the soul and patch the heart that power never again shall part. As long as round the neck you wear, this talisman shall your load bear.”

Virgil felt something click back into place inside of him and he couldn’t help but give a content little sigh.

Amaryllis stood and opened the door without another word. Remus was a little ways off chucking pebbles at birds. Ursula stood from her seat on the front steps, looking between them.

“Well?”

“He should be fine, now. Just make sure he keeps the talisman with him all the time,” Amaryllis said.

Ursula left with little thanks, Virgil trailing after her.

Virgil’s life would not get easier, but he would never forget the kind witch of the woods who reminded him what it was like to be loved.

#tw verbal abuse #verbal abuse tw #verbal abuse #tw physical abuse #physical abuse tw #physical abuse #ptsd tw #tw ptsd #ptsd #tw flashbacks #flashbacks tw #flashbacks #tw toxic relationship #toxic relationship tw #toxic relationship #tw graphic imagery #graphic imagery tw #graphic imagery

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